Judecca
by fetch-thranduilion
Summary: Huge REMSG crossover...A tale of masters, apprentices, and traitors. Who's who? You decide. Canto XV: Feanor, reclaiming Koichi's Spirits, encounters both a foe and a friend. Sequel to Dark Chest of Wonders.
1. Canto I: Lain

I'm a terrible person. I have, in the work below, attempted to write, in first person, for a show I've only seen once... a show that is, to put it lightly, WEIRD. Like, specializes in confusing you. So...if you haven't seen it, you won't understand this. And if you have seen it...you'll likely want to kill me, as I think I butchered it. But oh well.

I don't own anything touched by Margaret Weis or Chiaki Konaka, obviously.

Author's notes about the REMSG come after this travesty, at the beginning of Canto Two. I swear this is a REMSG story...

**Judecca, Canto I: Lain**

He recognized me. He looked me right in the eyes and said my name, called me "Lain." Immediately, though we'd never met before. Just like everyone in the Wired. Before they were reset.

"Lain," said the man with the strange eyes softly. Judging by the raspiness of his voice, I doubted he could speak in any manner but "softly." "Lain, I have a job for you."

"How do you know I am Lain?" I asked, apprehensive. No one should've known me...and yet, I'd been lonely. Even seeing Arisu again just wasn't the same. Had I made him appear?

He smiled at me, a gentle smile that still made me shiver. "Come now. Everyone knows Lain... or they did, until you proved yourself to be yet another martyr. The past exists separate from humanity, Lain. You're wrong about that. Perceptions can be changed. Realities cannot. I am Master of the Past and Present. What is memory to one such as I?"

"Kami-sama?" I stepped backwards. "The real...Kami-sama?"

The smile again; what was wrong with his pupils? They were malformed. "Oh, that was my goal. Once. And perhaps, now it is again. I am in need of a world, Lain. And I want you to make me one."

"I can't." I wasn't sure about that, though. Why was he bothering me? The first contact I'd had in so long, and already I wished he'd never laid those crooked eyes on me. I looked at him, hard. Delete. Delete. Go away. Forget me.

He laughed. He laughed at me, right to my face, and my confidence evaporated. "Fool. Yet it was a noble attempt. I commend you, Lain."

I sat down, hunched over with my back to him. "Go away."

"I'm not connected, Lain. I'm not from your world, so your rules don't apply. And I'm not leaving...until I get what I want."

Standing, I started to walk away, but I could feel my eyes on him. I turned. We faced each other. Both of us stared. Above us, the sun shone down, bleaching the pavement and splaying telephone pole shadows on the brilliant white expanses. Somewhere in the distance, a train rattled by. Still I looked, levelly, at him, trying to understand him. Still he met my gaze, and I saw the knowledge in his eyes—hourglasses, his pupils were hourglasses—that I could not reach. I had never been unable to access anything before. It made me frustrated. And, for some reason, lonely.

The train roared in my ears, and he spoke again. "Lain, I can help you. I know what you're seeking, what you've denied yourself. Sometimes starting over isn't good enough. I can send you friends."

"I don't need...friends." They were all grown up now. Reika, and Juri...and Arisu. Grown up, grown apart. Grown away.

"Don't you? A small girl like yourself doesn't need friends? I was under the impression they traveled in gossiping hordes."

"I'm not like other girls."

"I know. Yet you want to be, and I can help you become that. I want a world, and you can help me make that. It's not for me, by the way, the world, but for...another. I haven't found him yet, but when I do...he will need to be trained. Just a training ground, Lain. A training ground...for the hell to come."

"I don't believe in Hell."

"You believe in Kami-sama, do you not?"

"I might." Looking at my feet, the whole situation seemed suddenly unreal. I heard them, in my mind, heard my friends calling for me. They were going to Cyberia, and I was late for the discussion like always. I'd always be late now.

I looked back up again. "In this world...what do you want?"

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

It was done. And he seemed to be satisfied.

He laughed again, a horrible wheezing sound. "So it is true, what they said about you in the Wired. Or, at least, what they said."

"Maybe so. But Lain is nowhere now."

He ignored me. "If you are nowhere, because no one remembers you...to whom am I speaking? What were you doing before I came along? You existed, Lain. Reality and perception are not connected. This world you have made me proves that." He bowed, and his form began to fade. "My thanks to you; fear not, I shall repay my debt. Your first friend shall come shortly, Kami-sama."

"I'm not..."

"Because no one worships you? Do you not still exist, and did you not just create? Think on what you have done, just now. Farewell...God."

He was gone. I was nowhere again. It was a warm late spring day, and the trains were running on time. I was wearing a heavy sweatshirt over my other clothes.

And in his wake, I was still cold.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

a/n: If you think THAT's confusing, you should watch the original Lain! Don't worry, she won't be showing up too often...

Now back to people we know.


	2. Canto II: Ken

Okay. REMSG stuff now.

If anybody got a bunch of alerts from about this story, that's because I put this chapter up as Canto One, got the Lain idea, deleted the story, and reposted it with this as Canto 2.

I'm trying first person with this story, which is fastly in outlines becoming...for lack of a better word...a little trippy. It's supposed to be confusing at this point. Sorry.

I own no one and nothing here. If anyone can give me hints as how to better write Dalamar, PLEASE PLEASE tell me because I am SO embarrassed.

**Judecca, Canto II: Ken**

Looking back, I don't understand why none of us realized from the beginning that it was all Raistlin's fault.

Well, no. That's uncharitable. I suppose, at least for me, it's all either my fault or the fault of someone I traveled with long ago, someone whose face and name I don't even remember but whose life I saved. Or so I dream. Yet everything else in the dream was the truth, just like everything we will be writing here is the truth. Maedhros was adamant about that, especially after he finally got to look at the Encyclopedia Raistlin found—or will find, by the end of this entry. I guess for him, being labeled "fictional" was just another blow like back at the inn, when the keeper got all that information about his father wrong. Maedhros is one of those people who wanted his life—still wants his life, and now his afterlife—to be worth something, and for that life to be misrepresented and fictionalized...but I suppose we all feel that way here.

We all wanted to leave a mark on the world, and we want it to last forever. Why else would we have done so many infamous things? Villainy is remembered because it is unorthodox. Heroism...heroism fades, individuals become faceless. Even now my friends—my Tokyo friends-- are not labeled as individuals but as "the DigiDestined." They aren't stopped on the street by people saying, "Oh! It's Yolei Inoue!" but "Oh! It's one of the DigiDestined!" But me...even now, in the digital world, I'm labeled. "It's the Digimon Emperor!" One individual. Single. Branded. Forever. But that's what I wanted, and now I'm paying the price. Wishes have prices.

I suppose that's a running theme of our lives, and it's one of the things we all want you to get out of reading this—that, and that we exist. We're talking to you. We've made the wishes, we've paid the prices, and we're still standing despite it all. Yet we're not all standing at full height. Learn from that.

But before anyone can take this shuffled sheath of paper and beat coherence out of it, I suppose I have to relate what happened. Maybe it really did start with Raistlin after all, because my part in this story begins with my opening the door to my apartment on an otherwise pleasant late-spring day and finding him lying on the floor, coughing up blood.

"Tea!" Raistlin gasped, as I goggled in the doorway for a brief second—I didn't know what he was doing in my world, and I certainly didn't like the state he was in. His long black robes were stained and spattered with I-don't-know-what, and he seemed pale under the golden coloring of his cheeks. His hourglass eyes bored wildly up at me from under a black hood and a tangle of white hair, and he repeated his order urgently, then collapsed.

I remained standing there, like a complete idiot, as my mother came up behind me to see who was calling and started screaming. She'd never met Raistlin (or any of the other members of the Group, for that matter), and he's a fairly unnerving individual at full health, let alone bleeding on the carpet from what looks like consumption. Jolted back to the moment, I helped him inside and lay him on the sofa, then ran into the kitchen with his tea pouch.

"It's okay, Mom, it's okay, he's a friend of mine, but he needs his medicine; is the teapot around?" Still shaking, she got it for me, and as I heated the water and poured into it the pungent, musty herbs, mind racing all the while. Why was Raistlin in Tokyo? He should've been with his own people; the only members on a mission that I knew of were Maedhros and Feanor, still battling some Dark Lord or another on their home continent to save someone named Isil-something's soul.

Realizing how many holes there were in that description, I groaned. No wonder I didn't know what Raistlin was doing here, or why he was so hurt. Lucemon was in charge of email updates—which, while better than our old system of communication (which consisted of being whisked to another world to talk face-to-face), was a mixed blessing. We received weekly reminders of interviews and even had something akin to an infrastructure now, but anything not involving our new secretary directly he considered "boring" and "unworthy of detail." I knew that I myself had an interview that afternoon with a potential new member, and needed to print out the interviewee's biography sheet, but why a delegate was necessary to remind me I had no clue.

The teakettle whistled, so I poured the mixture into our largest coffee mug and brought it to Raistlin, who by this time was actually sitting up—albeit with the assistance of every pillow on our couch. "Tell her to stop hovering," he snapped, golden eyes flashing in my mother's direction. "I am not going to murder anyone—at least, not presently. Give me that."

That's Raistlin for you. I handed him his tea and turned to Mom. "Um...you better do as he says and leave us alone, Mom. We just need to talk for a bit." Meekly she nodded and left, and I bowed my head. Ordering my parents around brings up unpleasant memories for me.

After several long sips of tea, Raistlin cleared his throat and turned to me. "Sit down." I did. "Believe me, appearing here like this was never my intent. I am a messenger, nothing more, but that blathering idiot of a secretary-on-probation caught me at a bad time."

No kidding, I thought in spite of myself, genuine concern mixing with curiosity. "What were you doing?" I asked.

Raistlin wouldn't meet my eyes. "Does it matter to you?"

I got the hint and dropped the subject. "So what was so important that Lucemon had to send you out like--" I paused, trying to figure out how to phrase it.

"Don't bother sparing my feelings; they died long before you and your ilk cropped up to mow them down. And if you'd quit asking useless questions I might actually get to the missive for which I was so unceremoniously drafted. I have brought your transportation to your rendezvous with idiocy today, and I have come to request...a favor." He coughed the last word.

I accepted the "transportation," an amulet I needed to put on when the time came for my interview, and rearranged the pillows behind his bird-thin frame. "Of course, Raistlin. Anything."

"Somehow I knew you would say that. You young, earnest, hopeful types always do." Since he's died, apparently Raistlin has become rather musing, taking the part of "wise elder" on several occasions though, white hair notwithstanding, he isn't even thirty. Though I would never refer to myself as "hopeful." "Anyway, I suppose you will hear what I've been doing anyway. I need..."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"A change of clothes," I marveled for the thousandth time as I booted up my computer. "Because his robes are soiled from apprentice hunting." The idea of Raistlin wanting an apprentice—indeed, of him ever having one to begin with, though he assured me he had and the person turned out to be not exactly what he'd had in mind—seemed so bizarre. I'd always admired him for, despite having to rely on others when his frail body could take a strain no longer, never really seeming to need anyone. He was his own person, and to his Abyss with the rest of the world. I could never be like that. The thought of it was frightening—and intoxicating. Even the Emperor, my alter ego born from the darkness in my heart, had needed legions of supporters. Raistlin stood alone.

At least, when he had the strength. For now, he was asleep in my parents' bedroom as his robes whirled around in the washing machine, and I still had an hour before my interview. Time to put my mind on less important matters. I may have been a Recovering Evil Madman, a DigiDestined, and a part-time genius, but I was still an eleven-year-old kid as well. And I hadn't played my favorite video game, Donkey Madness, in a long time.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

"Ken? Ken? Shouldn't you have gone by now?"

"Good grief!" I looked at the time in the corner of my screen and panicked. "I'm late! I'm so late!" Grabbing the papers I'd printed about today's subject, I shut down my computer and patted Wormmon on the head. "Thanks for reminding me," I told him, then slung the amulet around my neck and vanished.

We—that is, the Recovering Evil Madmen Support Group, have one of the most inane home bases ever (my base as Emperor excluded—a giant flying potato; what was I _thinking!_). From what I've been told, it seems it used to be some kind of interdimensional preschool for young gods and goddesses whose parents were off doing other, more important things (like creating or destroying universes), but it shut down when the proprietors realized that most baby deities were smarter than they themselves were. Now it's been leased by Namo, the Judge of Maedhros and Feanor's world, who apparently doesn't carry much cash, as we haven't been able to afford redecoration yet. It's very hard to concentrate on sins and forgiveness with pastel animals frolicking on all the walls, let me tell you. Quite distracting indeed. Lucemon, of course, volunteered to re-wallpaper, but as his idea of "remodeling" involves blowing things up, starting over, and brainwashing whole populations to love the result, that idea was shot down. Literally. Even Raistlin would rather have bunnies on the walls than whatever our friendly neighborhood fallen angel would cook up. Besides, Lucemon's on probation...so Namo made him a clerical worker and our secretary. I may never understand these immortals, though Raistlin's apparently outwitted quite a few.

Anyway, I apologize for the digression, and would now like to return to my rushing down the hall, scattering papers behind me and hoping my interviewee—client?--hadn't arrived yet. No such luck. An elf in black robes stood fluidly to face me as I entered, my long hair wild underneath the yellow goggles on my head, goggles given to me by Namo and proof of my position as a Recovering Evil Madman. Kicking my shoes off in the doorway (not just because I'm Japanese; he who soils the workroom carpet, cleans the workroom carpet), I tried to bow at the same time and introduce myself but ended up tripping over my own ankles. My interviewee's robes rustled as he drew them closer to himself, and I regained my balance and bowed properly. "Please forgive my tardiness and entrance, sir." My tardiness, my entrance, and my flaming-red face would be more to the truth. "My name is Ken Ichijouji, and I'll be conducting today's interview."

"Indeed," murmured the elf, dark eyes trained on me in a manner familiar, yet somehow implacable. "So this organization is so poorly staffed it hires children? No wonder they contacted me."

Perfect. Why can't anyone I interview leave off the dry humor? I was in a bad enough mood, ashamed enough of myself, already without suffering at his hands and wit. Sitting myself in the large armchair reserved for the interviewer, I noticed a strange design burned into the wood of my desk that I'd never seen before—a design still smoking, in a lazy whispy thin swirl.

Noticing, the elf shrugged. "Pardon me. I grew bored, and when I am bored, I tend to...well, associates have called it 'doodling.'"

"Not a problem," I replied absently, looking through my papers and getting a nasty shock. Whoever this elf was, I was betting he was _not_ the man I had information on. He didn't look like the clone of a little girl reimagined as an androgynous man, he wasn't carrying a magical ribbon as a weapon, and he didn't have a lotus tattooed on his forehead. "I don't suppose your name is Nataku?" I asked, just to be certain. "Because I have his infor--"

"The clone? He got delayed, so I took his place, as I would like to have this done with as quickly as possible.Your secretary protested, but I can be quite convincing when the mood strikes." Yet Lucemon sent me the Nataku data anyway. We needed a new secretary, and fast. I'd volunteer, except I didn't think many modern employers accept "God's clerical aid" as previous work experience. "I only responded because I wanted to see what sort of men joined this institution. Now I know. Is my presence problematic?"

"Not at all. Why don't you start by telling me a little bit about yourself anyway?" Taking out a pad of paper and a pencil, I couldn't help feeling a little like a psychiatrist as I studied the elf's face. He would have been handsome—probably had been so, once, ravishingly so (I guess)--but some anxiety had strained him, paled his skin and streaked his otherwise obsidian hair with one long strip of white. And he _did_ have nervous hands; they fiddled with his armrests as he spoke. Maybe this was stupid, if he didn't even want to be here. But...I would feel like a failure if I didn't try.

"My name," said the elf almost lazily, "is Dalamar Argent, known widely as Dalamar the Dark." Well, that figured. "I am Head of the Black Robes of my homeland, and I willingly chose to worship evil gods, for the gods of Good would not set me free to live as I saw fit. Yet as far as deeds of evil are concerned, unless you count looking out for my own interests above all else, which I would not count, I have done none. What, after all, are 'good' and 'evil' but labels only? Two sides of the same coin, clad in different colors. There are only people, each of them selfish as the next." He laughed—a short, derisive laugh that I was certain I had heard somewhere before. "My _shalafi_ and his cleric proved that."

"Um, beg pardon?"

"_Shalafi_? Teacher." The fingers tried to slow down, but instead became more frenzied. "My master when young, whose lessons haunt me still." He looked at me sideways through almond-slanted eyes, eyes that for all the wear the face had taken still gleamed dark and bright. "Who is the evil one, child? The naïve student who wishes only to learn all he can about the things he loves at the expense of all else—or the arrogant genius who seeks to forever hinder his pupil's progress by the legacy he left?" He stood, pointed one of his nervous claws at me. "I will tell you, child. I will tell you why you should leave me alone, for you can never help me. The Tower should have been mine; I thought it was mine; I treated it as mine. It never was. With my aid, Takhisis should have succeeded and been left in my debt. He clawed his way back from the netherworld to thwart her. Did he understand what I had gone through? Did he ever have to live in those magicless times? Did he have to suffer the way I have, with all my ambitions always just a hand's breadth away yet utterly untouchable? His hands, his hands have moved my dreams from me...just as his hand marks me always. You want an 'evil' one, child? What sort of a man leaves his legacy like this!"

With a frenzied swoop, the elf ripped his robes open at the chest; taken aback and mortified, I snapped my head away, eyes shut. Did we have a psychiatric ward for mad stripper elves? In my boggled state, I couldn't remember, but figured since he was the first I'd met that we didn't.

"Look!" he commanded, so just to be polite I squeezed my eyes open a crack. To my immense relief, he was still wearing pants. To my further horror, his chest was bleeding. Five holes, the size and spacing apart of five fingertips, were bored into the pale flesh.

"I'm...sorry?" I ventured as the door behind me opened and a familiar figure swept in, clad in my father's black jogging suit.

"Are you finished yet, you dithering fool, I have an interview in fifteen—YOU." Raistlin's voice dropped to the bottom of his lungs as he saw the half-naked elf, who now looked half-dead as well. Wrapping himself in the torn robes, Dalamar shrunk away from the mage, pale face now whiter than ivory and dark eyes bugging out of his skull. "Shalafi!" he yelped.

And time, at least for me, stopped. "Wait a minute. He--" I pointed at Raistlin while looking at Dalamar-- "is the teacher who supposedly stole everything you ever worked for? And he--" now I addressed Raistlin "--is the idiot apprentice who violated the possessions you left in his care?"

"I have no idea what you're referring to," squeaked Dalamar. Seriously. There is no other verb.

"Oh, but I think you _do_, Dalamar," Raistlin whispered in his soft, razor-fine voice, sitting himself on the corner of the desk. "My Tower, the Tower you moved, then let fall in disarray during the first few years of the Fifth Age..."

"I was concentrating on finding new sources of power!" protested Dalamar.

"...was appropriately banished from once that mess was cleaned up; by the way, the fact you breathe today is entirely due to my intercession on Palin's behalf..."

"I have the magic still; what else do I need?"

"...and then, at last, that you _surrendered to the white mages!"_

"Lunitari and Nuitari approved..."

"I shall deal with them later!" Raistlin snapped. "Presently, I am speaking to you, Dalamar! How could you, regardless of the admittedly unorthodox circumstances, allow such a thing--"

But he never got a chance to finish his sentence, as Dalamar chose that time to abruptly vanish into thin air. Frankly, I couldn't blame him; as I've said before, Raistlin normally is rather frightening and Raistlin annoyed is tantamount to a creature from some nightmare.

The nightmare in question cursed fluently, in several languages from what I could tell, broke off into a coughing fit, and sat in the chair I hastily vacated for him. I crept out of the door, pausing only to throw my notes in the trash, as I didn't think I'd be seeing Dalamar again. As it turned out, I was dead wrong about that, but he'd left enough of an impression on me that when our paths crossed once more I remembered him perfectly.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

My part in this section of the story ends here, but from what I've been told here's what happened next, and I'll try to keep this as short as possible to make up for rambling earlier: Raistlin sat through his interview, which went only a little bit better than mine (something about homosexual assassins?...I didn't ask), then started flipping through this _Encyclopedia of Mages, _the book I mentioned earlier. Apparently the search for a new apprentice had been renewed with vigor after his encounter with his first (and only thus far).

All I know is that he found one, but there was just one catch: Namo had told Raistlin he needed a Recovering apprentice, and the boy he found hadn't even fallen yet.

Thus it was that when I woke up the next day, I wasn't even in my bed anymore and a boy I'd never seen before in my life was trying to kill me.  
O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

a/n: Whew! That took longer than I expected. But hopefully I'll be updating regularly...btw, the reason I'm calling the chapters "Cantos" is that I named the story after a section of Hell in Dante's Inferno, which is broken into "Cantos" as well...as a matter of fact, the bit I chose is the very, very lowest, where Hell has literally frozen over. That's where the Traitors to their Masters are...but I don't want to give away too much.

I've made a promise to myself that every time I post, I'll put some background information about a character on my Xanga (as background is going to be increasingly more important), so pop over to see a summary of Ken's life thus far, as well as some Frontier info. As for info on Lain...just watch it on YouTube. If I tried to explain it, my head would likely explode, because it's one of those stories that defies summaries. But Lain is NOT a REM. She's a handy plot device. (and cute to draw)

Coming up next, Lyon goes "camping" and discovers, in light of his recent deadness, that he and not Anakin's boss should be called the Phantom Menace. As in, he can't stop making the dang things. Oh, and we meet the mysterious unfallen apprentice-to-be.

See you soon!


	3. Canto III: Lyon

I has been a busy girl, oh yes I has, precious. I found lots of cool Fire Emblem pictures online, so I was in the mood and...yeeeahh.

Everybody get through the crazy "Canto One is now Canto Two, and Canto One is a load of random crap"ness? Good. Thanks for sticking with me.

I don't own Nintendo, and thus Lyon isn't mine. Surprisingly, he may not be meek enough here...if being meeker is possible.

**Judecca, Canto III: Lyon**

Not to be demeaning or belittling to Ken, but he didn't do a very good job. Of explaining, I mean. It's not his fault; he wasn't there for a lot of things, and nobody should expect him to be an authority. He's just a kid. And I don't mean that to be insulting either.

That being said, I _was_ there for most of the things Ken left out. Raistlin would be the best person to go to for this information, but he took one look at us as we drafted this report together, laughed in that racking way of his, and left the room shaking his head in wonderment. So don't expect to hear from him anytime soon. You'll have to settle for me. I'm not a very good storyteller, but here goes.

The first thing Ken wasn't there for was the initial apprentice attempt. For some reason—this was before he found the encyclopedia--Raistlin had been impressed with my skills while we were fighting on the beach, and offered me an apprenticeship with him. I was touched, but also wary. My powers were what had gotten me into trouble in the first place, and I didn't want to mess up and hurt anybody again. So I said no, not remembering Raistlin isn't one of those people you want to turn down. He asked me why not; I said because I was too weak to control the power, so I was giving it up. I'd find some other way to help people. Maybe Maedhros could teach me swordplay; it didn't come to me easily, but I had an eternity to learn.

Bowing to Raistlin and apologizing again, I turned to walk away but never got the chance.

I sensed the fireball before it hit me and barely had time to teleport out of the way, but I didn't leave altogether because I wanted to ask him why he would do something like that. He smirked at me before I could even say anything. "You call yourself weak? I will prove to you how weak you are."

My stomach felt like it had been jabbed; I didn't realize what he really meant until later. Why did he have to be so mean to me? I'd acknowledged inferiority. He didn't have to defeat me to show it!

"You shouldn't try to hurt people to make a point," I told him, sounding like a whiny child but not really caring. He laughed in my face; he laughs a lot around me, I'm realizing. And that makes me angry, though not much does.

So something snapped in my chest, or my head, or somewhere, because suddenly I wasn't feeling like I'd been stabbed in the gut by his words anymore, but instead was both not thinking and thinking more clearly than ever. That's a lousy description, but it's true. Have you ever been so frustrated, so upset, so hurt and tired and angry that the rest of the world kind of fades into a smudgy stage for you and your opponent? That nothing else exists, and to fulfill some burning purpose within you all you have to do is show the hated man that you are Right and he is Wrong? It's not bloodlust, because I've felt that—or felt someone else feeling that—and that smears everything with red, like you're crying blood. This sets your blood on fire. And I felt that way about Raistlin Majere.

So I unleashed a horde of phantoms on him and they nearly tore him to pieces.

After that last paragraph I suppose it would be anticlimactic to say I didn't mean to. But I didn't. I only meant to send one, but the next thing I knew the power kept streaming out and away from me as I screamed something—I don't know what—and they kept springing to life around me, fueled by my frustration, until I had a veritable army. Of course, he held his own for a while—they don't call him Archmage, which I suppose is just another fancy word for "sage"on his world, for nothing, --and he tried to fend them off, but his magic involves a lot of gestures and spell components, and the phantoms just plain weren't giving him enough time.

I tried to help him then. I really did. Taking out my tome, I cast a spell of my own; mine involve much less preparation. And it did wipe out all the phantoms, which aren't all that resilient. Unfortunately, Raistlin also got caught in the blast, and I understood as I stood there gaping in horror what he had been trying to tell me. I wasn't a weak spellcaster. I was strong. I had power. But...I couldn't control it, and that's what_ I _had meant. And if Raistlin couldn't stop me, then he was the wrong master to teach me how to tame my magic.

Now you know why he was all beat up on Ken's doorstep. On to the next missing bit.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Once again, I was with Raistlin, though I couldn't look him in the eyes for shame. He was all right now, but you don't forget beating someone up by accident, you know? Thankfully, he wasn't berating me or anything, but I think he knew he didn't need to. I was doing that all by myself.

"Bring more wood for the fire," he commanded from where he sat, a hunched-up bundle of black velvet with his ever-present staff on the forest floor beside him. All around us the pines loomed, dark and prickly-smooth; the stars stabbed the night sky above, but they were nearly lost to us for the overgrowth of the woods. Why Raistlin had invited me on a woodland expedition I wasn't sure, but after what had happened I didn't feel like I could refuse him anything. Maybe he knew that too, as he was certainly giving out his fair share of orders.

Dumping the dead branches I'd found on the ground into the crackling flames, I settled down next to Raistlin. "What are we looking for?" I asked, drawing my cloak closer to myself. It was a cold night for spring, though the fire was warm and inviting. I didn't even know what world we were on. When Raistlin Majere tells you to do something, asking questions isn't always the best response. He'll tell you what he's doing on his own time. I'd learned that the hard way, too.

Raistlin coughed once, more to clear his throat than to herald a fit, thankfully. "We, my dear compatriot, are not looking for anything. We seek someone, to be certain. But we are not looking for him. He will come to us."

How could he be so certain? I shivered and moved a little closer to the fire. "Look, about...um...what happened earlier. I really am sor--"

"Save your breath. Will words heal wounds? Will apologies make your discipline increase? I think not. If you want to prove your penitence, I suggest you work on controlling your powers."

"I don't know why they—"

"You've changed states, fool. You are a dead man inhabiting a temporary shell. A dead _necromancer_. Should it surprise you that, being one with the source of your strength—the land of the dead— you find that strength multiplied?" He coughed again, but it sounded like he was laughing at me again. I was starting to really hate that laugh—or rather, the way it made me feel, so low and stupid and unworthy.

It made perfect sense. "I'm sorry. I should've realized--"

"Never apologize to me again! Show me, you blubbering idiot. Show me your strength, if you seek to gain it. If you constantly acknowledge weakness, you will never gain its opposite." He broke off abruptly and gazed at something I couldn't see deep within the flames, his face a shield of dancing shadows against a dull golden mask.

"I understand. Thank you," I told him, though I wasn't even certain if he could hear me; he seemed entranced by the fire. Even his eyes were half-lidded, the light filtering through and off his pale eyelashes. I'd never noticed that he even had eyelashes before. All of a sudden he seemed very human, though what I'd regarded him as before I couldn't be certain.

"He's coming," Raistlin murmured, and I stood to see if I could see anyone approaching. Nothing. What if this person—whoever he was—missed us completely? It was a big forest. Maybe I should go looking for him...but then I might not find Raistlin again either.

Or I could send a phantom to find him. I could help Raistlin and prove to him—and myself—that I was capable of controlling my powers.

So, calling on the magic within me, I tried to conjure a specter to me.

Thirty of the blasted things leered back at me when I was done before gliding off in all directions. If I were the swearing kind, I would have cursed, but instead I just sat back down, my face bright red. "I...um...overdid it. Again."

"So I saw," Raistlin replied distractedly, almost listlessly. "Yet that may work in our favor. Here he comes."

A figure came into view in the distance, moving surely and quickly for all the darkness, even if its steps seemed a bit haphazard. Raistlin coughed and hung his teakettle on the spit over the fire, catching his sleeve on fire by accident in the process.

As I leaped up again to help him and the two of us beat the flames out, a boy no more than twenty or so years of age entered the ring of light and watched us apprehensively, yet scornfully. "Who are you?" he practically demanded. "What are you doing out here? This is royal property. Have you got a permit?"

"I need nothing of the sort," whispered Raistlin, his voice raspy and chilling. "And what of you? Why do you wander these woods, royal or no, after your companions are so long abed?"

"Someone has to keep watch in these dangerous parts."

"So you deserted your caravan?"

The boy eyed Raistlin warily. "I never said anything about traveling with a--"

"Silence, child!" The boy bristled at the term. "Do you think I am so isolated from the times that I would not recognize a member of the Greil Mercenaries on sight? Indeed, my friend and I are intruding on these admittedly protected grounds for the express purpose of meeting with them."

"We've got a client right now. You'll have to go on the waiting list like everyone else," the boy replied, his tone now definitely hostile. "And you better be gone by the time we pass this way tomorrow, or we'll turn you in." He pivoted on his heel to leave, then stopped, glanced around and cocked his head.

"Ah, so you're hearing them too?" Raistlin asked. The teakettle whistled; he gestured for me to prepare it, so I took it off the spit, but the pouch he handed me did not have the usual herbs in it. When I dumped them into a mug with the water, the aroma spiraling up was not overwhelming and bitter, but warm and spicy.

I glanced at him. What was he planning?

"Hearing what?" the boy asked bluntly. I'd say this for him: he didn't mince words.

"The specters that haunt these woods late at night. The presence of a fire is the only thing that will ward them off." Specters? We didn't encounter any...Oh. Oh. Oh, he was sly. Using my mistake as part of his trap. For that was what this situation was beginning to resemble, at least to me: a web with Raistlin at the center, pulling the boy towards him with all the sympathy that a spider has for its fly. Poor fly. For all his apparent spirit, I bet he didn't stand a chance. Suddenly I felt much more friendly towards the boy.

"There aren't any specters in these woods..." the boy began. "Otherwise..."

"Do you trust reports and hearsay more than your own senses?" Raistlin asked. "Stop gaping and pour the boy a drink!" This was directed at me, so I handed the mug to the boy, who accepted it warily. I could feel his red eyes sizing me up, judging me. I wondered what he saw, and what he thought about it. I didn't wonder about what he thought of Raistlin. Raistlin makes the same first impression on everybody: he scares them half to death, then annoys them the rest of the way.

Apparently he could deal with what he saw, because the boy sat down across from me, drawn to the fire in the chill of the night. "So who are you, if you know all these things?"

"I am called Raistlin. Raistlin Majere. This is Lyon, my associate. We are archmagi—I believe you call them "sages" in your country, and we are seeking promising practicers of the occult."

"I'm not leaving the company," the boy replied flatly.

Raistlin raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Did I say anything about you specifically?"

The boy snorted and tossed his head slightly in an exact impression of one of Raistlin's own habits. I stared despite myself. "Don't play stupid. It doesn't become you. You knew me to be of the Mercenaries on sight, and that we would be passing this way. You've done your research. So why wouldn't you know who I am, 'specifically'? Besides, I'm not carrying a weapon and am wearing robes. I'm well aware that everything about me screams 'magic-user.' But you're wasting your time, if you want power. The mark on my forehead is a birthmark only. I'm no spirit channeler." I hadn't noticed that mark at first in the reddish light of the flames, but there it was—a tattoo-like red rune directly on the center of his forehead, below the part of his long black hair.

"Don't lie. It doesn't become you," Raistlin semi-mimicked spitefully, and the web shook. The spider was getting fed up with its prey and jeopardizing the meal, in my opinion—not that I was sorry of it. "If I have, as you say, 'done my research,' do you not think I would know what that mark signifies?"

The boy recoiled as if hit, and I saw fear flicker in his ruby eyes. "Get out of here," he said in a low voice. "Or phantoms or no phantoms, I am rousing the company and running you out of the country."

"You won't make it twenty yards. You'll come right back." Raistlin stretched lazily, lay down still curled in his robes. "So make the best of it--and drink that before it gets cold; don't be rude."

The boy dashed the drink on the ground and stood. "I'll not have you drugging me," he snapped. "I'm leaving."

"Sit." He sat, plopping to the ground jerkily—and, apparently, completely unintentionally. Furious, he glared at Raistlin. "How did you--"

Raistlin smirked. "Come now. Your resistance is high, but no match for me...Soren."

About time someone told me his name. Now feeling truly sorry for the boy, I moved a little closer to him and tried to smile. "Don't be scared," I said—practically pleaded, which of course was an entirely stupid choice of both words and tone on my part. "He just wants to talk to you. He doesn't want to hurt you."

"Get away!" The boy Soren raised his hand, and I could feel power building, so I backed off. I didn't want to try to block something and mess it up again.

"If you use that spell here, you'll blow the fire out," Raistlin said sleepily from where he lay. "And Lyon, though spineless-sounding at times, is correct. For once." How was I supposed to prove my strength to him when he said things like that to my face? I didn't need to hear that, even if I was thinking the same thing. "I don't want you dead. I want you by my side. I want you to be my apprentice."

"But you don't think I'm strong."

"I never said that. I said I was stronger." Raistlin propped himself up on one arm. "As it should be for a master and his student." He shot me a look, and I found the fire very interesting all of a sudden. That way maybe no one would notice I was blushing again. "I know of your strength, of your loyalty—and of your healthy regard for the plain and simple truth. I tire of those who hide behind masks always. I seek a cunning mind, a quick wit, and a perceptive view—yet unhampered by layers of euphemisms." He spat the last like it was a curse word; did he really feel that way, or was he trying to mend the web? I was fascinated and disgusted. My mind doesn't work like Raistlin's; I'm not good at judging motives. I take people at face value...or used to, until I met him and had to adapt or fall victim to one verbal trap after another. Yet when he spoke to Soren, he seemed sincere. "I seek crystal purity. And that is you."

"How can you say that?" Soren was still angry and scared—no one could blame him for that—yet now he also marveled while he shook and simmered. "You know who I am—what I am—the filth of my—and yet you call me..." He trailed off.

"Look at me. Am I in a position to judge on appearances and bloodlines?" The hourglass eyes seemed larger, weirder, wilder as he stared levelly at the boy, who backed down, gulping. "You see what I mean, then." He nodded, and Raistlin lay back down, his back to us. "You don't have to give me your answer immediately. Tell me in the morning, before you return to your companions. If you agree, I shall accompany you. If not...you shall never hear from me again."

"I can give you my answer now. I need to get back to Ike and the others. And my answer is..." He yawned, then tried again. "I say..." His eyelids fluttered, and he yawned again. "I..." Laying down on the ground, his eyes closed and his sentence—doubtless a declination—remained hanging in the air.

He wasn't nearly as prickly asleep, seemed almost gentle-looking. I smoothed back his dark hair, thinking something along the lines of _You poor thing; I'm sorry I didn't help you_, then turned to Raistlin, inert by the fire. "You put a spell on him, didn't you?"

I tried not to make it an accusation, but as it turned out I didn't need to bother: Raistlin was fast asleep. That appeared to rule out spellcasting, but Soren's fatigue had seemed very sudden...it was all quite...quite strange, really...

Looking at him and Raistlin sleeping softly on the ground, I felt my head grow heavy. That looked like a really good idea...and nothing could get us as long as my phantoms were out there...poor Soren; I needed to be well-rested to help him reject Raistlin tomorrow...no harm in just sleeping a bit, after all...just a little bit...

I lay down on bed of pine needles and somehow woke up on eiderdown. Like I said before, I'm not a swearer, but as I sat blinking in the sunlight wondering what I was doing indoors, the door opened and I said the first thing that came into my head.

"Damn it, Raistlin! What did you _do_!"

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

a/n: Poor Lyon. Poor Soren...who, by the way, is the hero of both the newest summary on my blog and our next chapter, in which he too wakes up somewhere else, has to make a very important decision, and gains a valid reason for trying to murder Ken in his sleep.


	4. Canto IV: Soren

Before I forget, I'd just like to acknowledge that I made a typo last chapter. Soren refers to not being a "Spirit Channeler." What I meant to type was "Spirit Charmer." As for what that is...well, see my POR blog posting.

Hopefully this story will start to come together a little bit this chapter, since I'm introducing the main plot and all.

I don't own any of these guys. They are their own people. Unless they're possessed, which with this crowd happens all too often.

**Judecca, Canto IV: Soren**

I don't remember falling asleep or even being drowsy. One minute I was in the woods outside Melior, and the next I was standing on a strange black road with the noonday sun baking my back. It wasn't enough that my location had to suddenly change, I guess; he had to go and switch the time of day on me too. Probably just to be as annoying as possible. For a mind so subtle, he can sink to some pretty petty tricks.

Of course, I'm referring to Raistlin. Even back then, how could I have any doubts about who was behind everything? He'd proven his colors to me already. So I guess I wasn't as disoriented as I could've been. I'd been waiting for some kind of trap during our whole conversation. I wondered how I'd sprung it, but soon decided it didn't matter.

Figuring I'd play along for a while to buy myself some time to think, I started down the road, noting how smooth and easy on my feet it was. I'd never seen a substance like it before, and I'd never seen a road marked with paint either. Yet this one had two yellow stripes going straight down the middle, dividing it into two distinct lanes. Nothing passed me as I walked, so I had no way of knowing if I was in the proper lane or not, and I didn't really care either.

For the moment I seemed safe enough, so I let my mind wander a little. Okay. Two sages encountered me in the woods and wanted to hire me. No, not hire. Apprentice. I would have preferred being hired. Clients don't go out of their way to prove their superiority. They try to stay in your good graces. Most of the time their shows disgust me, but I have to admit it's useful...for the mercenary company, at least.

Oh, blast. The mercenary company. I'd wandered off on guard duty, had no way of getting back, and didn't even know why I'd left in the first place (though I instantly suspected Raistlin). Any bandits or other scum wandering the woods would have to be monumentally stupid, or drunk, or both, to attack the Greil Mercenaries after everything we'd done for the country, but the possibility of "phantoms" worried me. There had never been any in those forests before—or anywhere, come to think of it, save in bedtime tales elder siblings would use to terrify the younger—but I couldn't get the sounds I'd heard out of my head. Sort of a swishy, whispering chorus, like something not quite solid was creeping around...

Stop it. This was no time to be developing an imagination. I had to be objective about my situation or I'd fall apart. Deal with the here and now. Ike was not my problem until I was back in Crimea. I'd be no use to them if I got myself killed or stuck in an alien country.

Back to Raistlin, then; Lyon didn't seem to be much of a threat, though I supposed that could be the point, sort of a "good jailer, bad jailer" routine like the farces they conduct in prisons sometimes. What did I know about him?

For starters, that he knew everything about me. No time to take that personally or feel violated, though thinking that didn't keep my heart from being squeezed by thorns, then sparked by timber, a bit. It was just an asset he had. He knew my history, my powers...quite possibly the way my mind worked. How could I combat that? I couldn't. I'd have to find another opening, if one even existed.

He wanted me alive: that was an important factor. He wanted to apprentice me, so he would probably have some ambush lying in wait to prove to me I needed to become stronger and he was just the sage (or Archmage or whatever; labels are stupid) to help me. I sharpened my already razor-alert senses for any possible disturbances—though what a "disturbance" counted for in this world I wasn't sure.

Almost immediately I noticed an oddity. It was, or at least seemed to be--judging by the heat and position of the sun—approximately the same time of the year in this world as it was back in Crimea, and the trees bordering the road were leafy already, but birdsong was absent. In fact, everything was utterly silent. The only noises I heard were my sandals slapping the road, my breathing (labored a bit by the heat under my dark robes), and a faint hammering that I realized with shame was my own terrified heart. What had scared the birds off? Had there ever even been birds here? If not, why not?

That line of thought reached a splintered, dead end. Back to Raistlin, then. What had he called me? Crystal purity? Maybe he didn't know me half as well as he thought. Did he think that just because I disdained mincing words that I couldn't be subtle? A brain has to be every bit as devious as the maneuvers it exposes, or it will remain blind. I could excel at court intrigue if I wanted to. The notion just happened to make me sick. And since there was no way I could defeat him through sorcery, I would just have to outthink him.

Daunting, considering how well he'd humiliated me back at that campfire. But I was ready now...ready for what, though, I wasn't sure of. Which, I realized as my stomach sank, made me not ready at all.

I certainly wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted me as I rounded a bend in the road. I'd crested a hill a while back, and now could see what waited for me in the valley below: a town, though unlike any other I'd ever seen (though that was only to be expected). It sprawled out in a tangled noodly mass of the black roads—some marked, some plain—a blocky community of immense square structures with a single spirelike obelisk in the center sticking up like a beacon above the community. A sign hung on metal poles above the road read, in big blocky letters, NOW ENTERING JUDECCA. Underneath was suspended a smaller sign. WELCOME TO THE GAME.

I stared down at the town called Judecca, guessing the black tower could be Rasitlin's stronghold. It looked like the kind of thing a man like him would erect, and the mention of a "game" on the welcome sign strengthened my hypothesis. Right. Best make this as simple as possible. I'd go there. At least, it was an easy landmark.

No sooner had my foot hit the pavement on the other side of the ENTERING JUDECCA sign than a man materialized next to me. I hopped backwards in surprise, and he reached out and grabbed me, righting my balance. "You okay?" he asked. "Sorry about that; I couldn't help tinkering with the transporter and guess I overdid the coordinates." He looked me up and down and whistled, a long low sign of appreciation, then broke into a huge and not quite sane smile. "Awesome Cosplay getup! Did you sew that yourself or do you really dress like that? Or are you from something? Nataku's hanging with us, but you don't seem like the X type. Lodoss War? Escaflowne? Final Fantasy? Throw me a bone, here! I'm doing the best I can!"

"I'm Soren," I told him bluntly, scrutinizing him in much the same manner though minus the doglike zeal. He was fairly tall—taller than me, at least—with a slightly prominent nose, tiny spectacles, wide eyes, and hair that reminded me of Titania's: wavy, with one long piece hanging down in front and braided in the back, except his was blond. Practically yellow. Under a long white coat he wore a woolen shirt and long trousers, and he had a black choker around his neck with a gold plate on it. Something was engraved on the plate, but I couldn't tell what.

He saw me looking. "Oh, you like it? I do too. It's a Knight. From chess, you know? Chief wanted to make me Bishop, but I said no, that's not flashy and cool, I want to be the Knight, and he let me! Isn't that awesome? Poor Nataku's just Pawn, but he doesn't play chess so that's cool with him. Oh! I haven't introduced myself yet!" Rummaging in his coat pocket, he pulled out a small white piece of firm paper and thrust it at me. "Alexander O. Howell, electronics and weapons specialist, and major otaku on the side! My ideal woman is Shiori from Tokimeki Memorial! Call me Alec! Here's my Pikachu business card."

Whatever. I pretended to pocket the card but really let it slip to the ground behind me. Always a chance it could be enchanted. "What do you want with me?" I asked, but he was listening to something that I couldn't hear, his head cocked. "Okay," he said finally. "Okay. Sure thing, Chief! What? No, no, when I left Nataku hadn't finished painting it yet. He's a freaking genetic experiment, not a crafts buff! Give him a break, Chief!...no, no, I've been good! Not one teensy-weensy bit of time wasting on games!...what was that?...no, I'm not wasting time right now, I've got him right here!...Okay. Okay. We'll be right here. Howell...no, Knight out. God, that sounds cool!" He smiled at me again, and I began to worry. Whoever this man was, he did not seem to be the type Raistlin would hire. Which meant either Raistlin was correctly second-guessing all my analyses...or there was more than one enemy to be had here. Either way, things did not look good for me.

"Hey, Soren? That was Chief. He sent me to meet you and he really wants to see you right now. So, um...here, grab hold of this." He pulled a small silver disk out of his other coat pocket.

"You must think I'm--" I started to say when someone pushed me from behind and my hand landed on the disk. There was a whirring sound, the ground dropped from beneath my feet, and when the stars cleared from my eyes I was standing in a dark hallway with Alec and, I supposed, the man who had pushed me, as he was putting away a "transporter" of his own. I blinked with surprise—he had a forehead mark as well; was he a Branded like me?--then winced as my head began to pound.

Alec's shoulders sagged as he grinned in sympathy. "We're working on that. Pretty soon we'll be able to zap anyone anywhere without giving them a transportation hangover, but until then we're learning to deal. Come on."

"I'm not going any--" But yet again I didn't get to finish my sentence because the maybe-Branded had jumped behind me and wrapped a long thin piece of cloth around my neck. "Do not struggle," he told me, his voice clear and guileless as a child's. Child be blasted! He was strangling me!

"I suggest you listen," came a voice from the wall. Steam hissed from it, a panel slid open, Alec sprang to attention, and "Chief" walked into the room.

Even with a headache and a potentially lethal ribbon around my throat, I couldn't help but stare disdainfully. This was the head of ...whatever I'd stumbled upon?

But he was a mere boy!

O0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The handcuffs itched, but that wasn't the worst of my problems.

"Look out that window," Chief told me, leaning languidly against the metal wall of the room he had stepped out of. "See the city below? All of that is mine...or would be, if Raistlin Majere hadn't shown up. Ring any bells?"

This was an interesting development, but it wasn't helping me any. Some sort of magic within the handcuffs Alec had slapped on me after Chief had made his entrance was negating my powers. The man-child Branded—called "Nataku" by Alec and "Pawn" by Chief—stayed close by my side, cloth at the ready. And my head still throbbed.

"Raistlin Majere?" I asked, studying the boy in front of me. About my height, he kept his dark blue hair about chin-length, a little shorter in the back, and parted on one side. While his skeletal frame was fragile, he moved with decisiveness and strength; his entire face screamed arrogance, from his wide thin-lipped smile to the cold pinpoint pupils of his eyes. I didn't know what the symbol on his choker meant. "Yes, I've met him. What of it?"

His brows furrowed as his smile widened. "You don't know?"

What had I missed? I had missed something, now I was sure of it.

"Raistlin Majere," Chief said, practically gloating as he savored each word, "has chosen you to be his Champion in the game."

"What game?" I asked hotly, though as I remembered the signs at the entrance I began to put pieces together in my head.

He spread his hands wide. "Why, the game I'm playing. Look. See this?" Walking over to a table, he pressed something on the bottom, and the tabletop hummed. A picture appeared over it: a perfect model of the city. I stole a glance out the window to check something, and there could be no doubt. I was in the tall tower.

He was still talking. "This is my world. Some people do not realize I rule it, and as long as they don't get in my way I'm letting them be. For now. Some people come to me willingly, and the elite I make my prime pieces. You have met two already." He nodded to Nataku and Alec. "And some...some I must control by force." He unclipped a black bracelet from his belt, held it up to show me. "On some I use these. Dark Rings. A marvelous innovation. Simply affix it to the subject and you can control directly. But on others...I am far more subtle." Pressing another button, he smiled as the map zoomed in on a building, which became transparent and revealed four small figures moving around. "See those dolls? They do not realize that whenever I wish it, they must move as I see fit. Sometimes they move of their own free will; it's less of a burden on me if I don't have to keep track of everyone all at once. Yet when I wish it..." He grabbed one of the dolls and tossed it out of the building. Behind me, in the real city, an alarm went off, and I tried to convince myself I hadn't heard someone screaming.

Chief met my eyes. "You see? That's why I am Kaizer and King." He thumbed his choker. "I rule all. Except Raistlin Majere. I can't get to him...or anyone else under his protection. Technically speaking, that should make you my enemy, but I wanted to offer you a chance out of thralldom under him and quite possibly death at my hands when I conquer him at last. Besides, I grow bored of the stalemate between us. You can tip the balance in my favor."

"So you want me to help you run people's lives? It's none of my business," I replied. "What you're doing is heinous but none of my concern. I'll pass. On both allegiances."

"Ah, but it is your concern. You see, if you don't join me...I just might add this piece to my little game. Nataku finished it this morning." Chief—or Kaizer or whatever he wanted to be called—reached into his pocket and pulled out a miniature figure with bright blue hair and a long cape. A sword hung at its side, a sword whose name I knew all too well. Ragnell.

My heart skipped a beat, then tried to make up for the stumble by working overtime.

"Don't you dare," I breathed softly. "Don't you dare drag Ike into this. That's the pettiest, lowest...it reveals you for the scum you are. Place that piece on your board, and I will never join you."

"That's the point," Kaizer grinned, though his face was so twisted by malice it was hard to see the joy. "Weren't you listening? Become Bishop to my King or Ikey-poo here gets dragged into the game. As my slave."

"You...how do you even know about Ike?" I was sick and tired of all these people knowing everything about me when I remained flailing about in ignorance. "Who's your informer? Who would sink so low--"

"Who do you think?" came a familiar, oily voice. From the window. I whirled to face the man hovering there; his beating black wings fanned my ponytails backwards.

"Naesala, you dastard!"

"That's King Kilvas to you, human whelp," replied the dark-clad lord of the raven laguz as he climbed languidly into the room, running his fingers through his hair. "And don't act so surprised. Our paths have crossed enough for you to know my predisposition towards any cause that pays well."

"You pirate. He hired you to find out about me."

"So it would seem." Naesala joined Kaizer, Nataku, and Alec, and I noticed he too wore a black choker. "Majere is on his way," he reported. "And not looking too happy."

"Well done, Rook," Kaizer replied; Naesala bristled slightly at the double entendre but soon had all his feathers smoothed again. "The time approaches, Soren. What'll it be?"

I looked down at the floor, trying to remain impassive and consider my options. I didn't want to turn Kaizer down because of what might happen to Ike. I couldn't grab the figure from him because my hands were bound and my magic nullified. I couldn't join Kaizer, on the other hand, because I didn't want to end up a brainwashed slave myself...though on all accounts saying "yes" to buy time was looking better and better. No one would be hurt but my pride...assuming Kaizer kept his word. And I couldn't join Raistlin's side because...

"This was your intention from the beginning," I accused the black-robed man who had suddenly appeared to my left. "You're using him the way he uses others."

"Do you really consider yourself to be worth that much trouble?" Raistin asked, though he was facing Kaizer. "My motives are not for you to discern."

"That much I'd gathered."

"Majere," spat Kaizer with all the love with which someone might say "Maggots" or "Vermin"...or, on Tellius, "Branded." "Always forcing my hand."

"Kaizer," replied Raistlin. "Always one step behind."

Nataku started at that, but a look from Kaizer and he backed off. "Your would-be apprentice has just been given another offer," Kaizer said. "We're all anxiously awaiting his reply."

I took a gamble, though it appalled every sensible fiber in my being; I wasn't used to having to make decisions with my heart. "Save Ike," I told Raistlin, "and I'll be your apprentice."

"Very well," said Raistlin. "Then let the games begin."

One sweep of his cloak, and Nataku was sprawled on the ground. Another, and Alec joined him. Naesala transformed into his full-fledged raven form but, rather than attacking Raistlin, swooped over his head, out the window, and away. Kaiser screamed as Raistlin raised his staff high and tossed Ike's figurine at the table. I jumped for it, bound hands outstretched, hit the table--

Went flying backwards as what felt like thunder magic exploded into my body and saw stars for the second time in one day as I hit the wall. Bruised but unbroken, I lay stunned for a moment, then opened my eyes.

"Don't move, filth," said Ike, Ragnell's point at my throat. "Finally I can clean my company of the likes of you. No one wants to hire an anathema."

"Ike, no!" I screamed, staring at my only friend's eyes and seeing no life within. "Ike, it can't be--"

"Time for us to depart," came Raistlin's voice, and I felt myself be pulled away and whirled around again. We landed in someone's bedroom, but I didn't notice that at first. I was too busy falling apart...and converting most of the other emotions into anger.

"You promised!" I howled at Raistlin. "You said you'd save Ike!" I was a fool for trusting him, an idiotic bloody blasted fool. "I'll _never_ be your apprentice!"

"Tantrums are for children. Save your breath." Was this man completely unflappable? "I said I would save your precious Ike, and I will. Now was just not an ideal time."

"I can't think of a better one!"

"I needed to be here. The others should awaken soon. Excuse me." He turned and walked away, leaning heavily on his staff and coughing a bit. I wanted to follow him, but a voice in the back of my mind—my normal voice—told me I better have my wits about me when dealing with him, so I needed to at least try to control myself. Running my hands through my hair—when had the handcuffs broken? Had Raistlin done that? Goddess, if I lost my powers of perception I'd have nothing left—I sat on the bed, then jumped up when it groaned. There was a person in it, and he was waking up.

Blue hair, side part, slim build...

He woke up in a hurry as the winds from my spell started tearing at him. "Who are you!" he screamed. "What are you doing!"

"Let him go!" I screamed. "Let him go, Kaizer!" I was going to kill Raistlin. What was Kaizer doing here asleep? He'd brought him?

The sleeper's eyes unfocused, filled with tears—and not just from my spell. "I'm not...I haven't been...what have I done?"

Kaizer's eyes weren't warm like that. And if he'd just gotten there, Kaizer wouldn't have been tucked in. This boy was identical, but he wasn't Kaizer.

I stopped my attack, staring, mind whirling as I tried to understand what was going on. In an adajent room, a door creaked open. Lyon's voice suddenly shouted "Damn it, Raistlin, what did you _do_?"

"Who's making all that noise?" An angel appeared in the hallway.

"Riley, where'd you put the coffeepot?" A disgruntled-looking man shuffled by, shaded spectacles covering his eyes, his gold hair mussed.

"I didn't touch it. Where are we?" A tall red-haired woman followed the man.

Raistlin and Lyon walked out of the room next to mine. Everyone stared at them and past them, into the room where I still stood over the cut and bedraggled non-Kaizer. Slowly all eyes trained on Raistlin.

"Raistlin," said the boy in the bed, "I think you've got a lot of explaining to do."

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a/n: Ouch, that was long. Oh well. Everybody follow it?

I forgot some POR stuff in my last blog, so Naesala's bio and picture are going up today.

Thanks to everyone reading this; I know it isn't as funny as my previous stuff, but once I've finished setting up the plot (which oughta be in a few more cantos or so) I'll start ejecting the humor back in.

Oh, and Alec is a real REM. He's from Ayashi no Ceres, and he really is an otaku (total anime nut)...Ceres was published in '97, so I figured anyone anime whose story is pre-97 he knows "about" (like Nataku) but anyone who came after (like Ken, Soren, and Lyon) he doesn't. And of course no one knows what he's talking about anyway.

Coming up next: a look inside Nataku's mind...and several more (dear lord!) players join the fray, fresh from REMSG headquarters/missions. Some mean well. Others...well, we all know how Roger feels about Raistlin.


	5. Canto V: Nataku

Everyone, please be kind to poor Nataku down there. This is the first book he's written, and he's not quite caught onto the "vivid verb" thing. And pardon my throwing a bajillion new characters in.

**Judecca, Canto V: Nataku**

My name is Nataku. The grandfather in the lab named me that, after a Chinese god without a soul. He thought because I was artificially manufactured and not born from a womb that I would have no soul. But the woman from the Dragons of Heaven told me I have a soul, and I felt a warm feeling in my chest when she said it, so I figured it must be true.

Except now I'm not so sure. Because Papa came back and told me I didn't.

This is all very confusing, even for me, but here is how it happened: Kamui, the man who looked like my papa, and who always called me "Kazuki" after the girl upon whom I was based, killed me because I wouldn't get out of his way when we fought the Dragon of Heaven woman on the clock tower. I knew he would do it, and I did not blame him. It was my choice to die. I hope he let her live after that, because that is why I got in the way: so he would not kill her. But I do not know what happened to her.

I felt a great stabbing pain in my chest and I knew Kamui had impaled me with his hand, the way I killed the priest with the sacred sword when he wouldn't give it to me. Since I knew I did not have much time left, I thanked the woman (it seemed only right, as she had let me know I had a soul). Then I guess I died, but here is the strange thing: I was floating somewhere and Kamui appeared before me. "Papa!" I called, forgetting for a minute that it wasn't really Papa; it was Kamui, but as I said earlier he looks just like Kazuki's father.

"Nataku," he said, and he was frowning. I knew something was wrong then, as he hadn't called me "Kazuki." I pointed out his mistake and his frown grew deeper. "Nataku, how could you believe that woman's lies? She was the enemy! The enemy always tells you what you want to hear to get you to do what they want! You are a fool, and you have failed me."

"Does that mean...I do not have a soul?" I asked, and I felt very cold all over. I don't know why, because I'm not supposed to have emotions if I'm soulless, and the cold feeling was very much like fear.

"You must earn your soul, Nataku. As of right now, you do not have one. But this man--" and here a boy appeared next to Kamui, a slim boy with blue hair parted to the side and a wide, thin smile "--if you follow this man, he will give you your soul."

"That's all I have to do?" I asked, and the cold feeling was gone.

"That's it."

"I'll do it," I told the boy, who walked up to me and put something around my neck. My cheeks flushed; no one had ever given me a gift before, and it made me seem special. "This is for you," he told me, which seemed very obvious so I do not know why he said it. "I'll call you Pawn."

First I was Kazuki, then Nataku, now Pawn. Why can other people not make up their minds about my name? "What is your name?" I asked.

"Kaizer," he said, and his eyes flashed.

So that is how I came to work for Kaizer, and how I met Alec, who Kaizer calls Knight (and who is very nice) and Naesala, who Kaizer calls Rook (and who is not so nice).

Now here is how I met everyone else that showed up.

After the boy with the long dark hair and the man with the long dark robes had come and gone, Kaizer was in a very bad mood, so I tried to stay out of his way and decided to make friends with the man with the sword who had joined us. Alec taught me how to make friends, so I followed the steps he told me.

Step one. Ask for the person's name. I walked up to the man, who was just staring at the wall, and said, "What is your name?"

"Ike," he said, and kept looking at the wall. He was very still.

Step two. Give your name and ask questions about the person to show interest. Alec did this step very well when he met me...except he knew my name already and thought I was from a place called "X." He kept jumping up and down and screaming. I decided I would not jump up and down and scream, as I did not like it when he did that."I am Nataku, but Kaizer calls me Pawn," I said. I did not like the name "Pawn", and Alec told me it would be alright to stay "Nataku." "What sort of things do you like to do?"

"I want to kill the filthy Branded," growled Ike, who kept staring at the wall. "I'll wait for him to come back and then I'll kill him!"

I decided I did not want to be friends with Ike. He scared me. Then I noticed the bracelet he was wearing and I understood why he was acting so strangely. Kaizer likes putting these Dark Ring bracelets on people so they will do as he says. I do not know why he does this, or for that matter why the people refused to follow orders in the first place. I am happiest when I have orders to follow. It makes my life simple, and I like that.

So I abandoned befriending Ike, turned around, and nearly ran smack into another stranger, who seemed a bit disoriented from the way he kept glancing around and stroking his beard in puzzlement.

He glared at me. "Who are you?"

"I am called Nataku," I replied, wondering if I should ask for his name and deciding not to. I did not want to be friends with this man.

"Where is Majere?" the man demanded.

"I don't know," I told him, then remembered "Majere" was the last name of the man Kaizer hated so much. I do not have a last name myself. I suppose it should be "Tojo," as that was Kazuki's last name. "But I will find you someone who does."

So I went and got Kaizer and he went to see the stranger and got very mad all of a sudden, screaming things like "Who let a stranger into my fortress?" and "You fools; how could he have slipped past you?" but when the stranger interrupted him to say "Pardon me, but I hear you have word of Raistlin Majere," that got Kaizer's attention pretty quickly.

"I know him," he snapped. "What of it?"

The stranger smiled, and suddenly I wondered why he had seemed so mean before. He was such a nice man. "I seek him," he replied smoothly. "Be you his friend or his foe?"

"If I say I am his enemy?" Kaizer began to say.

The man's wonderful smile brightened. "I had suspected as much. So you are the Emperor who has so plagued poor Ken Ichijouji? I'm thrilled to meet you at last."

"Never heard of him. What about the mage?"

The man bowed deeply; his silk clothes rustled. "Duke Roger of Conte at your service, milord. Swordsman, artisan, wizard..." His voice dropped. "And sometimes assassin." He sounded like he was telling us a special secret. "I seek revenge for injustices and indignities done to me by Raistlin Majere. If we play our cards right, the two of us could form a most profitable alliance indeed."

"I heard the word 'profit,'" said Naesala as he entered the room, stooping so his wings would fit through the door. "What's going on in here?"

Kaizer turned, beckoned. "Ah, Rook. Tell Knight we have found our Bishop at last."

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The day's strangeness did not end there, though. After helping Roger move in (he had brought a lot of things; apparently one needs many objects to be a swordsman-artisan-wizard-assassin), I was walking down the hall wondering what to do with myself when a light flashed and two people fell out of the sky and onto my head.

This did not hurt nearly as much as it sounds, though: the people were very lightweight. They did, however, manage to knock me to the ground, and as I lay there wondering what was going on and how many new people it was possible to meet in the course of a single day they started yelling at each other.

"What in the name of—this isn't Mandos!" cried the taller of the two, who had red hair just like the Dragon of Heaven woman. "Father, what have you done!"

"Immediately your mind leaps to suspecting me," the other one replied, standing and smoothing his long dark hair. "That hardly fills me with confidence in you, Nelyafinwe. Perhaps you do not wish for me to be rewarded in any way, and have wrought this complication yourself." He looked down, noticed me sitting there. "And your ignoble transportation has incapacitated yet another native."

"What?--Oh, I apologize, sir!" I was helped to my feet by the tall one. "Pardon my father and I. We did not mean to intrude in this fashion, and shall be presently on our way." He shot a meaningful glance at his companion—though what that glance meant, I could not say. "We must, after all, return what we have retrieved."

"Of course we must," replied the other. "We must run back to our masters with our tails between our legs like the craven curs we are...No, I cannot even jest about this issue! Take your treachery to the Valar who will delight in it. I defy it, and I shall not return. I am staying in this place; whatever tricks it may conjure can do me no greater harm than that I have already suffered at the hands of my own inept kin."

"Then give me the--"

"I shall not." The dark-haired one's hand curled tightly over something it held in its pocket. "This trinket is small recompense for that which I have lost, yet I shall take what is given me, no matter how feeble and paltry it seems."

"Already it corrupts you! Did I not counsel you to destroy it?"

"Did I not ignore your counsel freely? You are wasting your breath. I will not be broken by the tricks of a Maia weak enough to be vanquished by Men. Fear for me is unfounded and unwanted. Now run back to your slavedriver and leave me to my dear-bought freedom!"

"Do you want to see Kaizer?" I asked; people called him "slavedriver" all the time right before he gave them their bracelets. "I will go get him."

So I did, though I thought he would be just as unhappy about seeing these new strangers as he had been when he met Roger—or maybe worse, as there were two newcomers this time. Yet oddly, he was pleased.

"Well done, Pawn! I've been waiting for these two. Welcome, weary travelers, to my castle! Come this way--" and he escorted them down the hall to speak with them in private.

Naesala sidled up behind me, a very smug look on his face. "Ah, so it's finally come."

"What has come?" I asked.

He looked surprised, though I realized later it was the mocking kind of surprise called "sarcasm." "You mean you didn't knew? Those two have the new piece for his collection! Why, even I brought something for it!"

"Did I forget to?" I asked, wondering what sort of collection Kaizer had and worrying that if I didn't find something for it, Kaizer might not give me my soul.

"Probably not," Naesala said lazily, like he didn't really care about the conversation. "If he wants you to get something, he'll tell you. I'm going out on surveillance. My wings are killing me." He left me there, waiting for Kaizer's orders, and I was still waiting when Kaizer and the other two came back down the hall.

"Oh, there you are," Kaizer said. "Meet Maedhros and Feanor. We're helping them get home."

I nodded to the two, then turned to Kaizer. "But Naesala told me that they brought you--"

"Naesala is a cawing old crow who can't open his beak without hoping gold will fall out. Never listen to him, Pawn. Now where is he, anyway? I need you two to help me with something!"

"He went out."

"Out?...Well, don't just stand there, you fool, find him!"

I ran off to get Alec. With his room full of computers, he can find anything.

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"This had better be important," grumbled Naesala. He hadn't wanted to be found.

I didn't say anything. Kaizer had told us to be quiet.

We marched in a triangle down the hall to the basement: Kaizer in front with Maedhros (red hair) and Feanor (black hair) behind him and Naesala and I trailing behind, one on either side. Kaizer told Maedhros and Feanor that he was taking them to a portal to their world since their transporter had broken, but I knew where we kept our transporters and we weren't going there. I didn't speak up about that, though; maybe a special transporter was this way; and besides, I was supposed to be silent.

We reached the basement. The doors were very tall. Kaizer pushed on them and they swung open with a creak. We all entered together, and I heard the two in front of me give sudden yells.

We stood in a very large room with a path down the center leading to an ornately carved golden chest. On either side of the chest, like Naesala and I stood, were two gigantic creatures seemingly made of fire and darkness. They held whips in their hands; as they beat their wings in the still air I felt heat sweep over me.

"Valarauko!" cursed Feanor.

"Balrogs!" gasped Maedhros. Both drew their swords. I looked at Naesala, wondering if I should get my ribbon ready, but he did not turn into a raven like I thought he would. Instead, he stood with his hands on his hips, his lips curled in an amused smile. I did not know what he found funny.

Kaizer did not panic either. "Come, now," he said, pulling Maedhros off to one side, one hand on Maedhros's arm and the other curled at his side, palm in, "there's a perfectly logical explanation--"

"Yes, that you have betrayed us!" cried Maedhros, pulling away, and his sword burst into flame. I had never seen a sword do that before. "Why should we listen to you when you employ the creatures of our Enemy?"

"I don't know," said Kaizer, closing his hand over Maedhros's wrist, and I heard something click into place. "Why should you?"

Maedhros sagged, his eyes as blank as Ike's. The sword fell from his fingers. Kaizer removed his hand, and I saw something black on Maedhros's wrist. Kaizer had hidden a Dark Ring in his hand and used it to stop Maedhros from hurting him. Now I was certain he was not helping them get home.

Naesala gave a startled yell, and I turned to see how he was faring with Feanor. To my surprise, Feanor was nowhere to be seen. "He disappeared!" Naesala cried.

"Of course he did, you idiot!" cried Kaizer, suddenly furious. "He must have put it on! I've captured the wrong one! Find him! I don't care if he's invisible, find him now!"

That was not easy, but I tried. I ran out of the basement, up to the ground floor, and out onto the street, with my ribbon ready but not sure at all how to capture someone invisible. Maybe I would just run into him if I ran around enough. So I dashed up and down every street I ran across, and pretty soon I did run into something. It had black hair, so I wrapped my ribbon around it immediately.

"Stop that!" the person commanded. "Who's there? Why do you apprehend me? I have done nothing! I know not even where I am!"

"Why not?" I asked. This was the wrong person. This person was wearing white. Feanor had been in purple and red. This person's hair was wavy. Feanor's was straight. And this person was a woman.

The woman twisted her head in my direction, and her cloudy grey eyes stared past me. "Who are you?..." she pleaded. "In Paladine's name, I beg you, let me go!"

But I decided I would not. I would bring this woman back to Kaizer. Alec had showed me a chessboard once, when I asked about the symbol on my choker. I didn't understand much, but I knew the names of all the pieces. And I knew Kaizer was missing only one piece. So I was going to surprise him, and then maybe he'd give me my soul.

I was going to bring him a Queen.

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a/n: Yeah, that's who you think it is. Sorry, Raistlin...

Kudos to anyone who can find the lines I ripped directly from the Silmarillion! And check out my blog for a description of X and a YouTube video (hopefully, if it works) featuring Ken's conversion from Emperor to REM.

Coming up next time on Judecca: Riley and Yamaki (who are they, you ask? Reread the end of Canto IV) bring us up to speed on Raistlin's gang: how Raistlin confesses (sort of), how Lucemon is put in a rather compromising position, where they end up working, and how they find an elf on their doorstep, thoroughly shaken and ashamed of himself.


	6. Canto VI: Crysania

I know I said that I'd be writing as Riley/Yamaki next, but upon consideration I decided that I wasn't quite finished with Kaizer's group yet. So here's a short little chapter explaining why someone who never, ever, ever should side with megalomaniacal idiots...keeps doing so. I thought you were over this, lady!

Oh, and btw...I can't find anything that says when she dies. She's still alive for War of Souls; people mention her a bunch but she never makes an appearance (at least I don't think she does...) but that would make her really old, as Caramon was in his eighties when he died (beginning of WOS) and she's older than the twins (see the Annotated Legends if you don't believe me)...so I'm assuming she didn't have much longer in the world.

I don't own Crysania (no big deal) or Raistlin (so why does he keep sneaking into my house at night?)...or Kaizer, for that matter. Even his name is from the Japanese 02.

**Judecca, Canto VI: Crysania**

He had the voice of a child, but the arms holding me captive were strong as a man's.

I didn't know how I had come to encounter him, or even where I was. One moment, I had been lying in bed, praying to Paladine to give me strength for the day...and the next, I was standing on my own, feeling youthful as the day I took my vows. Stretching out my hands, I could feel nothing in front of me, heard roaring sounds around me but could not place them. Warm sunlight shone on my upturned face; I took a few steps forward, and my fingers touched a wall. Rough, grainy: I traced the block until it dipped into the mortar, and frowned. A perfect rectangle? How odd. What stonemason hewed anything coarse and rustic into a perfect--

That was when the man had run into me, the man with the child's voice and the ribbon rope. I pleaded with him to let me go, that I was a blind stranger who had wandered into his village in a daze, but he would not listen. Yanking me along, he called me "Queen," and I told him I was no such thing, just a simple cleric. Touching me in this rude manner, I told him, would not bode well with the religious officials.

He stopped and (I presume) turned back towards me. Puzzlement in his voice, he asked, "What does 'religious' mean?"

"Religion?" I held my medallion out to him. "Why, religion is—Has no one ever taught you?"

"No," he said. "The people in the lab and Kamui and Kaizer and even the Dragon of Heaven do not tell me anything other than what I am supposed to do."

How awful. He was a slave, without even the hope of eternal salvation to lift his spirits. "Religion is—well, do you see the symbol on my medallion?" I felt him lift it out of my hand, then give it back to me. "That is the Platinum Dragon," I replied, "the symbol of the god Paladine."

He took it from me again. "So that is what a dragon looks like," he said. "Then why were we called Dragons of Earth? I do not have wings or a tail or any of those things."

"I'm sure it was just a title," I told him, though I had never heard of any order called the Dragons of Earth. I was surprised the dragons had tolerated it. "But Paladine is not a dragon either—not always, at least. He is a god, a being who looks down upon us with love and compassion. When good fortune comes to you, you should thank Paladine, for it was his doing; and when you need help, in your darkest hour, you can call on him to help show you the way." I hoped he would not be offended if I spoke to him like he really was a child. "There are many different gods, but Paladine is the one I serve. I worship Paladine. That means my soul is in his care."

"Ah!" said the man. "I see. So Kaizer is my god. He has my soul, and if I follow him well enough, he told me I will get it back. That is why I am bringing you to him: because he needs a Queen, and if I give him one, maybe he will be happy enough that he will give me my soul."

Fear gripped my heart. "This Kaizer...is he a man? A human?" If my captor, who for all his rudeness in behavior seemed like a good man, had been deceived by a charlatan...there would be a reckoning to come. I had learned tolerance of other views during my long life, but one thing I would never allow were men masquerading as gods. I had seen too well the harm done, been touched too closely, by one of them.

"A human being? He looks like one. But if he is a god like you say, he could change forms. Am I right?"

"Yes," I began tentatively, "but..." There was only one way to get to the bottom of this and save this poor man, who thought he didn't have a soul in his core. I threw my shoulders back, raised my head, and tried to recall some of my old arrogance. I would need a mask for the encounter to come. "Take me to Kaizer."

"Of course," the man said, and we started walking again. "That is what I have been doing." He was silent, as if thinking something over, then said, "I have decided I would like to be your friend. My name is Nataku. What is yours?"

"Crysania Tarinius, Revered Daughter of Paladine," I told him, and my hand went to my medallion. Please, Paladine, I prayed, save this dear childlike soul. Save Nataku, and grant me strength so I may triumph over the evil I believe is being worked here. Let me do your bidding here, as I have all the days since I took up your sign.

Yet the mediallion did not glow or warm underneath my fingers like it had before the War. It remained dark, cold. Dead.

I shivered. What did this forbode?

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Nothing could have prepared me for this! Nataku sounded like a boy, but he had a man's body. Kaizer...Kaizer was really a boy!

His slim hand gripped my wrist; I felt something cold and hard hidden in that hand and jerked away. "What are you doing?" I demanded, the haughty noble of decades ago resurfacing. All part of the act. Was Paladine refusing to bless my mission because of the way I was carrying it out? I could not change tactics now!

"I'm trying to give you a gift, my Queen," he purred; I imagined him as having a wide, thin smile as he spoke from the way the syllables left his lips. "A chance to discover a new brand of loyalty."

"Loyalty? Servitude! What lies have you showered on Nataku? How dare you claim to hold a man's soul hostage!"

"But I do. Don't you see?" I heard him walk away, refuse to face me as he spoke. We were alone in a small room; I could tell from the way his voice echoed tinnily off the walls. "Nataku believes I have his soul. Because of this, he will follow me and obey, no matter what I tell him. He has given me, in other words, his soul to do with as I choose. Souls are the cheapest currency on the market, no matter what you may spout about their worth.

"And I'll hoard them as long as I can use them, but they're sold just as easily to someone else. A mind, though, a mind is invaluable. Take someone's mind, their notions about reality, and you have them forever, for a preconception can never be fully erased. My elite I deal with in souls; their minds follow automatically. That's what makes them elite. The common people...I deal with in minds. So what'll it be, my would-be Queen?" I could hear him approaching again, and I fought down the disgust rising in my throat, not wanting the appalling creature near me. "Your soul or your mind? I deal in bodies as well, if you refuse. There's a certain person out in that city who can tell you all about my figurine collection." Yet at the same time...a child! A child saying such things! How could this be?

I recalled a story I had once heard, about an equally precocious child. At the age of six, the boy had professed to want power "so that fat innkeepers would someday bow to him." I had shivered but laughed off the story. Then I met the man who had been that boy. Could I allow this Kaizer to grow to be someone like..._him_? The pain he had inflicted and endured...

What was I doing? I had not thought about him for years! No one likes to dwell on their failures...but he was at peace now. Something buried deep within had saved him, yet the layers of corruption within him had nearly engulfed that spirit. Kaizer was young. There was still time. If I remained by his side, earned his trust, pretended to be loyal, and slowly introduced him to the light...if he came to understand me, he would forgive what at first would look like betrayal...

Yet I would still have to lie. Was it worth it?

Paladine, why won't you answer me?

Are you testing me?

"I'm waiting, Queen. The choker or the Dark Ring? The game must go on."

Forgive me, Paladine. I have made my decision. Let Kaizer forgive my lie...and let you forgive my renunciation. It is insincere, Paladine. I do not mean what I am about to say.

"My soul. You can have my soul. It will be an honor to serve you, Kaizer."

I felt him fasten something around my neck as I knelt at his side. His hands brushed the clasp on my medallion's chain, and for an instant I panicked, thinking he would take it from me. Yet he straightened again, and even helped me stand. "Excellent. So even the virtuous can be broken by the truth. Now come! I want you to meet the rest of the set. Come in now!" he called.

One by one I heard them enter, wondered at the rustling I detected behind the man called Rook, accepted the piece of paper from the eager man called Knight, hugged Nataku back as he welcomed me happily (though rage flared up in me upon hearing him be introduced as "Pawn")...and then Bishop sauntered in.

"What's all the fuss abou—well, hello there, miss!" I felt someone take my hand and kiss it; I smelled hair pomade. "Duke Roger of Conte at your service, milady. Your presence gracing these halls will surely lighten the mood in the dark times ahead. For there is much to be done if the enemy is to be defeated."

"Enemy?" I asked. I had not known there would be an "Enemy." Most likely a pure-souled band of renegades fighting off this dark influence over their town. What would I do if expected to oppose them? Why, my heart was on their side! I could not fight the forces of good!

"Pardon Bishop," Kaizer interjected, and I heard Roger give a yelp of pain. "He has joined our side for the pursuit of revenge. We do indeed have an enemy, my Queen, an enemy that seeks to stop our crusade for his own purposes. Why should it matter to him what I do in my own town?" I heard him turn around again. "Excuse me. Bishop and I need to have a little talk in the hall."

They left, and as the door clanged shut Knight began to elaborate. "The Enemy is a very powerful dark magician. I don't know what he wants, but he keeps messing up Kaizer's plans. And as bad as Kaizer is—because you and I both know he does some things that aren't all that nice—this man would be far, far worse. I mean, his powers are unstoppable! Maybe even worse than a dummy-plugged Unit 01 from Eva! I'd hate to be the one to make Raistlin Majere angry!"

I was hearing things. My guilt over what I'd just pretended to offer to Kaizer was affecting my mind and making me hallucinate. "Pardon me," I said, leaning against the wall to fight off a sudden dizzy spell, "but...you didn't just say Raistlin Majere?"

"Well, yes, actually, I did." He sounded confused. "That's the Enemy's name. Why do you ask?"

"We've met," I said simply, closing my eyes and resting my pounding temples on the cool metallic wall. Paladine had forgiven him. He had been granted peace. He should not be here, wherever "here" was. He was dead.

And so, I realized with a sinking feeling, was I.

Then this...was the afterlife?

But where was rest and salvation?

The people had said the gods were gone, after the war thirty years ago. I'd remained faithful and refused to believe that. So what was going on?

How could souls on the plane I'd been sent to after death have never even heard of religion?

Were the gods really gone?

My medallion...it hadn't glowed since the Chaos War. Yet I still expected it to.

Who did this make Kaizer? A replacement god for hungry foolish souls? Had I played into his hands?

Had I damned myself?

Me, Kaizer, and Raistlin Majere, together after death in a lifelike Hell.

I try to never question my god. But I really didn't think I deserved this.

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a/n: When Crysania starts quoting Captain Jack Sparrow, it's time to stop writing.

Okay, NEXT chapter is Riley and Yamaki and Raistlin, oh my. And today's blog highlight is Ceres, so you all can learn about Alec the otaku. (I'm saving Raistlin and Crysania for a huge DL marathon explanation when I have the time).

See ya.


	7. Canto VII: Riley

I don't own Digimon Tamers or a lighter. I do, however, work as a "page" as a library, and all "eccentric patron" stories that I will someday incorporate are all true. They're weird places, libraries.

Oh, and anything in _italics_ is Yamaki speaking in this chapter. He's just interjecting in the report; he's not in her head ala "All I Want" or anything.

**Judecca, Canto VII: Riley**

Technically, Yamaki should be the one writing this report; after all, it's him and not me who qualifies for this little Group...whatever that means. But he's a busy man with a busy man's habits: what he doesn't want to do, he delegates. Most of his job involves delegating, as a matter of fact. And he delegates it all to me.

_Are you going to report, then, or just harangue me? No one cares, Riley. Just relate what happened. This is not a diary; it's a record for posterity of the events that occurred. Write it as one._

And you know what else he does after he delegates? He picks on me for doing it wrong. Ah well. Might as well do what Mr. Boss-man says. So here, without further ado, is a highly scientific account of highly scientific events that befell our little group of scientists.

_You're on thin ice, woman. You've had your fun. Now do your job!_

Fine, fine. After we woke up in the strange house and wandered into the hall (in search of coffee, of all things; I swear the man runs on coffee, cigarettes, and stress), we met our companions. "Met" in this context, for highly scientific clarification purposes, means "joined a congregation of strangely-dressed and in some cases strangely built individuals who all happened to be looking at one man, who was the strangest of the lot." As it sounded like an explanation of some sort was forthcoming, we stuck around. Yamaki hadn't quite woken up at this point, so he wasn't screaming at people yet, and I just wanted to know what was going on but tend to try to keep a cool head in even the oddest of situations. The only thing that happens when I'm tired is...I get sarcastic. So please pardon the nonsense above, and calm down, Yamaki, before you have a heart attack.

_About time you decided to behave. I'm in no mood to listen to your attempts to be "playful."_

Uh-huh. There we all were, gathered in the hallway: myself, Yamaki (who was starting to realize we weren't in our apartment any longer), the boy with wings (Wild One? I wondered, but said nothing), the purple-haired man, the boy with the mark on his forehead, the blue-haired boy (who by far was the most confused-looking of the lot; the others just looked angry), and the man they were all staring at: the golden-skinned, golden-eyed, white-haired young man leaning heavily on his staff. Despite the sea of angry and confused faces staring up at him, he remained admirably calm.

"What seems to be the trouble?" he asked.

"What do you think?" snapped the winged boy. "One minute I'm taking a break from filing all your stupid papers—not a nap, mind you, just a little break—and the next I'm somewhere I've never seen before, surrounded by people I either don't know or hate!"

"You hate us?" asked the purple-haired man, a slightly pained expression on his face. "Lucemon, um, maybe we should all cooperate since we're all in this together; now I want to hear what Raist--"

"Hah!" Lucemon (so he was a Wild One; all their names end in "mon") shot him a pompous glance. "Together? With you? Never! You fools are the ones responsible for landing me in this stupid job and delaying the advent of my glorious utopia! But just you wait! One day you will all bow to me!"

Sheesh. Anyone who talks like that—especially if they're not human—does not make a very favorable impression on Yamaki. Hearing that, he instantly snapped out of his coffee-coffee-find-the-coffee stupor and launched into full-fledged Mr. Hypnos Founder And Supervisor Mode. "Bow to the likes of you? Never! I'd sooner die than live a slave to scum--"

"Ahem." The golden-skinned man cleared his throat softly, yet the noise cut through the ranting and Yamaki fell silent. "I believe you all wanted to hear my explanation?"

"Yes," growled the boy with the marked forehead. "I want to know everything."

"Here is what I know." The man shifted his staff to his other hand and stood a bit more upright. "I came upon this oppressed world while searching for my stolen home prior to its most recent war. Deciding that upright, repentant citizens such as ourselves could not allow such a despot as the man who claims to rule here to run amok, I gathered to me the members I thought would be most willing to aid my efforts, pulling from not only the Group's current membership but also the "to be filed" piles of potential interviews on our secretary's desk...piles which, I might add, are dangerously copious."

"I'm a busy mon," Lucemon returned sulkily. "The amount of stuff that Namo guy makes me do is nuts."

The man continued as if he had never been interrupted. "Along with a boy I deemed worthy of becoming my apprentice—for I fear my previous student shall not be spreading my teachings, having recently been banned from my collection of arcane knowledge—you are my selections. All of you profess to having strong moral codes, or a healthy sense of responsibility--" his eyes lingered on the purple-haired man, whose face flushed "--or at least detest the idea of an overbearing authority running your lives, though in some cases that could be considered hypocritical." I could feel his eyes boring through Yamaki's sunglasses as he turned to us, and I took Yamaki's hand, squeezed it tight.

"Don't do anything you'll regret later," I murmured.

"I don't need you looking after me," he shot back out of the corner of his mouth, but his arm muscles were tense. His hand twitched; I could tell he wanted his lighter. Poor boy. We'd just met this man; he had no right to be poking fun at Yamaki. How he knew so much about him, though...that was a problem. We went through all that trouble to be top-secret, and people who apparently aren't even from Earth knew about Hypnos? Someone must have messed up, big-time. I just hoped it wasn't me.

"So here you all are," concluded the golden-skinned man, sliding his hands into the sleeves of his long black robes. "Lyon of Grado, the prince who failed his people. This is your chance to save a nation at last." The purple-haired man frowned but did not respond, deep in thought and chewing his lip. Thinking over what he had supposedly been offered?

"Ken Ichijouji, who will find that the ruler of this world is somewhat...familiar."

"What are you talking about?" the blue-haired boy demanded. "Why was I attacked? What's really going on?"

"Soren of the Greil Mercenaries, who I believe has just realized what his stakes in this game are."

"Then you let that happen to Ike on purpose? I don't believe your explanation. You're up to something!" cried the other boy, the one with the brand on his forehead.

"I am rarely ever not 'up to something,' my dear apprentice." The man paused, looked at his reflection in the crystal topping his staff. "Myself, Raistlin Majere. I stand to gain an apprentice and free the downtrodden—a group which, despite my admittedly soiled history, I have always sought to support."

"I'll bet he supports himself first, though," Yamaki muttered. Raistlin heard.

"And what of yourself? Mitsuo Yamaki, defender of the people, hidden in the shadows. Why hide? Do you fear the people do not wish to be protected? Or do you realize the true nature of your quest and seek only to conceal your motives? Order and stability—or your own arrogance: which does Hypnos truly support?"

"I have superiors," Yamaki argued gruffly.

"Whom you detest with a passion, despite their usual inclination to agree with you. Only you know what's best for everybody, don't you?"

"What of you, bringing us here without our consent? Where do you get off talking to me like that?"

Raistlin shrugged. "It is as you say: I serve myself first. I needed you here; I brought you here; I'm not sorry about it. End of moral examination. Now, your part in this...have I not already mentioned it? You're freeing the people, the poor helpless people who need Mitsuo Yamaki to look after them. Those pitiful fools."

"And what about me?" I demanded, not angry that he hadn't explained my presence but wanting to take the pressure off Yamaki before he exploded—quite possibly literally. "I don't know what Group you're talking about, but I hardly think given the apparent requirements that I qualify. Why drag me along, then?"

"Oh, yes. You. Riley Otori." He sounded almost bored. "Well, someone has to watch the house while we're gone, do the laundry, fix the meals."

"You dragged me out of my bed to God-knows-where so I could be your dorm mother while you overthrow a corrupt government!" Now I really was mad. "I'm a professional! A working woman!"

"In, of course, a purely working relationship with your employer."

How had he twisted it so he could attack Yamaki again? "Yes, I live with him. Yes, I cook and clean for him. But only because--" forgive me, Yamaki, it's true "--he won't look after himself!"

"Only?" Yamaki asked.

I was near tears. How stupid. Now I was angry and embarrassed. "And I...worry about him. I care about him. Alright, I love him. Are you happy?"

"Lighter," Yamaki muttered; apparently he was still a bit drowsy. "Need my lighter." He shuffled off to the bedroom to find his favorite stress-relieving device. I watched him go but didn't follow. After all, it was my fault for getting mad...but he would blame himself. 'I shouldn't have let her stay'; 'I knew it would be a bad idea.' 'I never should have let anyone detract me from work in the first place.'

_Putting words in my head now?_

Am I right?

_...That has nothing to do with it. Just stick to the facts. Don't record any more dialogue._

You're embarrassed, aren't you? I'm sorry. Can I get you anything?

_You can shut up and finish the report!...And I'll have a cappuccino. _

Getting back to the subject at hand, which by the way is impossible to relate accurately without dialogue, sir, Yamaki wandered back into the room in which we'd woken up, and Raistlin wasn't quite done with me yet. "I wasn't fishing for a confession; your feelings are fairly apparent. The point I would like to make is this: you enjoy looking after him, do you not?"

He had me there. Blast.

He smiled. "I thought as much."

"Hey!" the Wild One suddenly interjected. "What about me? You're ignoring me! What am I doing here? I have paperwork to do—not that I mind the break, but the sooner I'm off this dumb probation the better!"

"Ah, Lucemon. I was just coming to you but female hysteria interrupted me. You have been given a very important position."

"I knew it!" The angelic Wild One looked immensely pleased with himself. "I'm the leader we're establishing after we kick the old one out, aren't I?"

Raistlin smiled again. I've never met anyone before who looked even worse smiling than frowning, but he somehow managed it. "No. You're Yamaki's partner."

"What?" Lucemon and I both exclaimed, and Yamaki rushed back in, lighter in one hand and an all-too-familiar-looking device in the other. "What is THIS?" he demanded, shoving the light grey object in Raistlin's face.

"I believe in your world you call it a D-Power. A Digivice. A connecting link between human and Digimon which enables the emotions of the one to be converted into data for the other."

"I know what a Digivice is," panted Yamaki, wild-eyed behind his sunglasses, which were sliding down his nose. "What I want to know is what this one was doing on my nightstand."

Lucemon was also staring at the D-Power. "No way," he breathed. "No freaking way."

Yamaki turned to Lucemon, mouth hanging slightly open. "I won't," he stammered, then regained control. "Especially not with...that. I just won't!"

A light flashed. When it cleared, Lucemon was no longer standing in the hallway; in his place was a small white monster with small golden wings, large eyes, and a horn on the top of his head. "I...devolved..." it gasped, then looked up at Yamaki, who was threatening to squeeze the D-Power to death while the thumb of his other hand flicked his lighter open and closed at lightning's pace. Eyes crossing, the monster flopped backwards in a dead faint.

"You idiot," snapped Raistlin, knocking the unconscious creature out of the way with his staff as he began to leave. "Now look what you've done."

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"You better not lock this filing cabinet," Cupimon threatened from where he sat in the drawer. "And don't go screwing with the settings on my homepage either. I just got that stupid thing the way I like it."

"Perish the thought," I said wryly as the computer booted. Yamaki was in the restroom, washing his face and adjusting his tie, and I had come to see that his first day of work went smoothly.

That's right, work. Not only had Raistlin had the gall to send us all here, he'd gotten us all jobs. Working at the Judecca Public Library. Who had worked there before he'd showed up, I had no idea; the Group comprised the entire staff. Raistlin was head librarian, Lyon was children's librarian, Ken and Soren were "pages" or circulation workers, and Yamaki was reference and tech librarian. And I, of course, was the stay-at-home domestic goddess.

"It's the perfect cover," Raistlin had said. "This library has an excellent collection of arcane texts from which I can instruct my apprentice, and we can easily stay in touch with the common people of the town, look out for them."

Yamaki had used a few choice words to describe this plan, and in my mind I agreed with him. There was definitely something fishy about this whole setup.

"Shouldn't you be getting back?" Yamaki asked, walking up; I could hear the steady click-click-click as he played with his lighter.

"Are you sure?" I asked him, brushing off his suitcoat for him, straightening the already pristine cuffs out of habit. "I can stay if you need someone--"

"I've got him." Yamaki kicked the filing drawer; Cupimon, nee Lucemon, yelled a wordless protest. "I'll be fine. I can take care of myself perfectly well."

He was still mad at me about my little breakdown, and so was I. "Just...hang in there, sir," I told him, picked up my purse, and left, fighting the urge to look back as (in my mind's eye) he slowly receded from view. Yamaki wasn't born to be a public servant. If he didn't know anybody, he'd be a saint: idealistic to a fault, noble, determined to defend the welfare of humanity, full of love for his fellow man. Yet on a man-to-man level, he thinks everyone he meets is an idiot. Maybe he was better off before I entered his life: alone with his computers, who worked when he told them to work, on what he wanted them to work. Who followed his instructions to the letter, and who never complained or worried about the morality of what he wanted them to do. Had I really stuck my nose where it hadn't belonged?

If you had, he'd have kicked you out, the sensible part of my mind replied, the part that was usually in control. I was glad it hadn't abandoned me altogether. He loves you, Riley, you know he does. He just doesn't know how to show it. And you've helped him. Who was there when he was fired? You were...even if it was only because you were fired too. Who helped him get rehired, set him back on his feet? You did...even if it was only by following all his orders.

_This is getting a little too personal. You're almost finished, Riley, don't make me do this myself when you've gotten this far._

Yes, sir. So I was walking down the street, thinking about...certain personal thoughts about a certain impersonable man, heading for the Group's base of operations, the place where we'd all woken up. A rather large, normal-looking house situated seven blocks from the library on the lot designated 616 Antenora Avenue, the base apparently had a ward on it preventing any of the "enemy"'s forces from infiltrating. I assumed, if this was an oppressed country where everyone served the ruler mindlessly, that everyone would be an enemy.

Thus I was thoroughly surprised to see the tall man with pointed ears huddled on the doorstep. In fact, I'd swear he wasn't even there until I stepped on him.

"Majere!" the man rasped, out of breath and clutching my pant leg. "Take me to Majere!"

"One moment," I said awkwardly, fumbling for my keys and trying to figure out what on Earth—or Judecca, or whatever—was going on. Unlocking the door, I led the man in, sat him on the couch, and dialed the head librarian's office on the phone.

"Yes, what?" Raistlin's voice was raw, like he'd been coughing.

"It's Riley...um, sir."

"I know that, you idiot! Why do you think caller identification exists? What I don't know is what you want!"

"I don't know how to tell you this," I managed to say, "so I'll just put it straight. There's an elf on the couch."

"What?" Silence pervaded the other side of the line for several long moments, then: "Red or black?"

"Huh?"

"Red or black hair? Does the elf have red or black hair?"

I checked. "Uh...black, sir. And he looks mad."

A sigh. "Fine. I'll be right there." With that, he hung up on me. I stood there like an idiot with the receiver still in my hand for about a minute, then hung up as well. First liberation quests, then partners, then a library, and now an elf. Compared to this, tracking Wild Ones for Hypnos looked like a pretty darn normal job.

And God, I missed it.

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Thus ends the first 7-canto Canticle of the 7-canticle tangled mess called "Judecca." That's right , right now, current plans for this story set it at being 49 cantos long. I'm looking forward to that, actually.

I explain Hypnos/Tamers on my blog today! Dear lord, I love Yamaki and the gang...though even writing about him leaves me a bundle of nerves like he is.

Next chapter: We finally see inside Raistlin's mind (or at least as much as he's willing to show) as he discovers the disadvantages of working at a library and shanghaiing apprentices. He's thus forced by circumstances to cast a highly eccentric spell...on himself.

Really long nonsense, coming soon right here on "Judecca!" As Asuka Langley would say, "Next time: Service, service!"


	8. Canto VIII: Raistlin

Okay folks, I'll keep this short to compensate for chapter length: I. Don't. Own. Raistlin. The only way I ever will is if action figures are released with the movie. And I apologize to Raistlin fans everywhere: not only for my portrayal, but also...ahh, just read.

Let's boogie.

**Judecca, Canto VIII: Raistlin**

"Uuffffh." Lyon flopped down on his bed and buried his face in his pillow. "All those...kids, running and screaming around the...library. I thought libraries were...quiet places. What a day."

What a day, indeed. I ignored him, scowling furiously as I turned down the covers of the bed next to his. Not where I'd originally intended to sleep when I designed the house; I'd had a separate room all to myself in the plans with a double bed, but that idiot elf had to dump all of his problems on my doorstep and mess up my sleeping arrangements. Now Yamaki and his tagalong were in the double bed in the next room, and I...

"Raistlin? Is there going to be a light on somewhere? I don't want to run into anything in the middle of the night and wake you up."

...I was with a necromancer who wanted a blasted night-light. "_Shirak_," I barked at the Staff of Magius, which began to glow with a faint, sulky light in the corner. Huddling in the covers, I turned off the electricity with a wave of my hand and squeezed my eyes shut. Lyon was a fool, but he had a point. I had underestimated the distractions that working in a library would bring, especially as head librarian. All day, people had worriedly told me that "they'd lost the book" or "the audiobook kept skipping" or "how dare you make us pay that seventy-five cent fine." I decided to make Feanor circulation manager. Then no one would come to _me_ with those problems anymore. In fact, after two weeks of Feanor, no one would have the guts to complain at all. Perhaps he would actually be an asset.

And perhaps a horde of elephants with my brother riding a pink one in the front would come flying through the window. I had not needed Feanor here. I had not wanted Feanor here. Even if he hadn't been on a mission at the time I implemented this plan—a mission now apparently completed, and which I was planning on using to my advantage; he couldn't keep that artifact on his person forever—he and his gods-cursed son would not have been invited. I was going to have to speak with Lain. Soon.

Because I'd lied to my companions about finding this world. I hadn't found it. I'd designed it. And it had been functioning perfectly...until Curufinwe Feanaro appeared on my doorstep, leaving me no choice but to house him if I were to maintain my companions' trust, trust which I had to hold for the plan to work out. Of course, was the plan still working even now?

There were lumps in my mattress. It was like sleeping on potatoes. I could only imagine what that arrogant stress-case and his nursemaid were doing in my real bed. From across the room I heard a faint snuffling sound: Lyon was already asleep. Dreaming the restful dreams of the feeble-minded, no doubt, the simpletons' revenge on their sharper comrades. We hold the keys to the world...but they are better prepared to unlock the mysteries in the morning.

To my disgust, I felt my throat begin to sieze up. Not again. If I started coughing now, I would never get to sleep. I flung off the covers and staggered to the door. Perhaps if I made it to the kitchen—and my tea—in time...

I bumped my foot on something in the dark hallway and fell, the shock jolting the fit into fruition. My body heaved as I coughed, feeling my insides straining and warping with each spasm, and tears stung my eyes. Behind me in my wavering vision, the Staff's too-faint light winked gloatingly from the doorway.

Soren's room shouldn't have been too far off. Apprentices were useful for just such emergencies. "Soren!" I managed to croak between retches. "Apprentice!" Too soft. He didn't come. "Soren!" Still no one.

Behind me, a door opened. No. Anyone but them.

"What's...oh my God, are you all right?" Warm arms wrapped around me, helped me to my feet. "Do you need medicine?"

"Tea. Kitchen." Too few people realize that sentences are actually a luxury. "Soren."

"He's fast asleep. Here. I'll help you. Just hold on." Slowly she walked me down the hall, cradling my body in hers, nearly carrying me down the stairs. Yamaki failed to make an appearance. I wasn't surprised.

We made it into the kitchen; I collapsed at the table, my head swimming from lack of oxygen, and she hurried to the stove to warm the water. I got a good look at her for the first time; though my cursed eyes did not reveal to me the beauty that was so apparent to her employer, the fact that she was wearing nothing but a skimpy silk night-shirt could not escape me. At least I'd interrupted them. The thought jabbed me with spiteful pleasure...then the fit jabbed me harder and I lay my head down on the table. Where was Soren? Better him than her. I didn't need her pity.

Something warm and steaming touched my lips; she'd added the herbs herself from the pouch I'd hung on the wall for easy access. Eagerly I gulped the mixture down, though it was still searingly hot—the bitter fire burnt away the thicket in my lungs. Taking a deep breath, I frowned and smacked my lips. I hadn't been mistaken. The tea tasted differently than usual, less revolting (though I'd gotten used to it after years of shameful reliance). Almost...spicy.

"What did you do to it?" I asked, sipping the mug on my own power this time. That spice again, rather sweet and definitely familiar.

"It smelled disgusting, so I threw some cinnamon in." She sat down next to me with the pot of liquid, ready if I needed a refill. "I didn't want you to throw it up from revulsion."

"Thank you for that delicate mental image. Women truly are the more refined sex." I took a deep draught of the tea.

She sighed. "I'm sorry about earlier. It just came as a shock, that's all, waking up here and...not knowing anyone. And Yamaki...well, he misses Hypnos already. It's his whole life, and it's the life I've chosen to support. He doesn't hate you so much as the situation."

"As I seem to be the cause of the situation, it amounts to much of the same thing. I'm going to bed. And Riley..." I stood, refusing to face her.

"Yes?" she asked almost hopefully. No doubt waiting for the simple "thank you" that even her lover refused her on a regular basis.

"Next time that happens, I want Soren to care for me. It should be part of his duties, which he is already lax in learning." Let her chew on that all night. Serves her right for stealing my bed. "Good night."

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"Good morning, Raistlin."

That statement didn't deserve an answer. It was anything but a good morning. "Lyon, explain something to me." I finished tying my pouches to the belt of my outfit—garments Ken referred to as "street clothes"; while searching for the world prior to the War of Souls I had learned much of other dimensions and had picked a design similar to the boy's homeland—and retrieved my staff from the corner. "How is it that a man can nearly die just outside--" He was putting his chest armor on over his T-shirt. "Oh, never mind."

"No, Raistlin. I really care. What do you need to know?" His eyes were wide, helpful, moist-looking and young. He looked like a puppy—or maybe Caramon.

"There is no point in asking a question for which I already know the answer," I replied dismissively. "And take off that armor. It'll do you little good if we're attacked anyway."

Leaving him there, I made my muggy way back into the kitchen, where I found the rest of my household already up and about. Apparently I was the only one with a defective sleeping area. That could easily be altered.

"Cupimon, don't burn your fingers reaching inside the toaster. I'll get the toast for you. Oh, hi, Raistlin. Um...your shirt's on inside out." Ken frowned slightly. "Are you okay?"

"I most certainly am not 'okay'," I retorted, sitting at the head of the table and shooting a glare at Soren, who was picking at an omelet to my right. "I almost died last night and my apprentice failed to come to my aid."

"I didn't know," Soren argued automatically. "Don't scold me for what I can't help." He stabbed his food viciously with his fork, scowling in such a way that the heavy purplish-grey rings below his eyes stood out. Maybe I was not the only one who had slept poorly...but if so, then he really had no excuse for his absence last night.

"It's alright, Soren," said Riley, spooning hotcakes onto a platter in the center of the table, then onto the plate in front of the man whose head was thoroughly buried in his newspaper. "He's fine now. Your food's ready, Yamaki." He grunted, and the plate disappeared behind the paper as well.

Wordlessly I watched her serve me. "You know something?" she asked. More things than you, I thought, but decided that being tired was no excuse for childishness and remained silent. "I have something to help you." She bustled away and soon returned with yet another mug—but not of tea this time. "Ever have coffee? On our world we use it to help wake up. It makes you more alert."

I took the mug, deciding if I drank the blasted thing it would make us even and then I could stop feeling awkward around her. Even after my purposely callous behavior last night, she was still trying to be helpful. I'd picked her for that very trait, figuring in a house full of Recovering Evil Madmen three or four egos would be bruised at any given time and would need mediation, but I regretted not remembering how annoying that kind of person was.

Fortunately, the brew was pleasant, and I was able to drink the whole thing without gagging. Certainly much richer than I was used to—and I had a feeling the acidity would be bothering my stomach soon—but going down, it was quite nice.

Then the aftertaste kicked in, and I grimaced. How sour. The effects came later.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

She was having her revenge after all. I'd been tricked, and now I was dying.

"What do you want from me?" Soren demanded. "You knew I was a mercenary. We attack and defend things for clients. Of course I specialize in combat spells."

"You don't just specialize. You're limited." Oh, gods, my heart. My heart was going to hammer itself right out of my chest. The coffee had not made my eyelids any lighter, my head any clearer. The sour aftertaste still tainted my mouth. I was fidgety and exhausted at the same time. And I had an essentially useless apprentice.

We were off in the forest just inside Judecca's boundary, in a clearing I had special-ordered, though of course Soren thought I'd happened upon it once and then taken him there. Not wanting to face head librarianship immediately, I'd decided to see which aspects of my apprentice's arcane knowledge would need the most expanding.

It was staggering. His powers were immense, but he only knew variations of three basic spells, all of which were martial in nature. There was more to magecraft than wind, fire, and lightning! Did they truly hold it in such low regard on his home continent? Normally I enjoy a challenge, but getting Soren to listen to me was troublesome enough without his being unable to cast a simple sleep or binding spell. Where would we start? How could I round out his abilities? Would I even be able to, since his world's magic was not the same as mine? Was there yet another flaw in my plan?

I couldn't think straight. I was going to explode from all the nervous energy jittering through my veins. If I actually had felt awake, it would have been more tolerable, but to want to sleep and yet be this frantic...My chest shook, and I started coughing. "Tea!" I commanded. Soren remained standing there, in the charred and windswept area in which he'd exhibited his paltry powers. "What are you just standing there for, you dolt?" I gasped. "Fix me my tea."

He didn't. He just stood there and watched, calculations clicking behind his scarlet eyes. "I'm not a slave," he replied. "Lyon said I have to take care of you, but I don't owe you that. You let Ike be taken. You aren't strong."

I'd show him strength!...once I could breathe again. "Don't leave me," I pleaded breathlessly as he turned around. "Look at you, at how little..." Winded, then better, relatively speaking. "...you can do. You need me. I can teach you..."

"No." He began to slowly walk away. "I don't need anything but combat skills for what I have to do. You are not my client. And Ike is my leader. I have to save him. I don't need you for that. I was a fool to think I did." His shoulders heaved; was he crying? "I couldn't sleep last night. I laid up, thinking about what he'd said to me. What he...called me. And I realized something. You tricked me just like Kaizer. The only person I can depend on is myself. So goodbye, Raistlin. Make Lyon your apprentice. He's the only one gullible enough for you. I'll be back for you to take us home. And if you refuse, you'll realize how much I really know about magic."

Threatening me? _He_ was threatening _me_? I tried to laugh and ended up crying aloud in pain as my lungs twisted. Stupid fool, I thought, watching him walk away. Stupid blasted stubborn fool. You need me. All of you, here in my game within a game, need me. But you're too blinded by your own pride to see it! I have to make you see...if my internal organs let me live out the day.

I lay there in the forest, exhausted by the coughing yet wired by the coffee and adrenaline, for countless minutes. Then, when the spasms subsided and I could stand, I brushed myself off and teleported away. I had some shopping to do.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

It was called the Black Sheep Apothecary and Convenience Store, and it was run by two men called Cain and Kain.

"Hello, Raistlin," said Kain, moving his lance aside so I could enter the sliding door. "He's in the back."

"Thank you." Kain—fully armored despite the trappings of the world—was more a shoplifting prevention device for the other proprietor than anything else. He was a dragoon, a man of war and few words. He knew next to nothing about prescription drugs or potions.

Fortunately, the man in the back was an expert. Specifically, on poisons.

"Greetings, Raistlin," Cain Hargreaves said, smirking from where he stood on a high ladder, dapper in his clean white shirt, his ever-present cane tucked under one arm as he retrieved a vial from the top shelf. "How may I serve today? I just received a new shipment of aconite, and arsenic is on sale." He never had any of his "special" items out. The Black Sheep looked just like an ordinary drug store...on the outside.

"Nothing from your collection today, my dear Earl." I took a folded piece of paper from my pocket and slid it across the polished counter to him as he dismounted the ladder. "Though the offer is tempting." I liked Cain, which was rare for me; I'd run across him, like so many others, as I searched for Krynn. Seemingly cursed, he too suffered the slings and arrows of the undeniably maladjusted. And, while I disapproved of his occasional womanizing, he was a cunning and secretive snoop well-known for meddling in affairs that should have been none of his business. We had much in common, Cain and I.

Picking up and unfolding the paper, Cain gave a low whistle. "What are you cooking up, exactly?"

"A spell. A potion. Of unusual strength and effect." I'd never cast this particular spell before—that is, I knew a variation, but I was experimenting with this version for the first time. And I would be doing it on myself.

Cain busied himself collecting the ingredients on the list. "I pity the poor sap who gets hit with this concoction." I smiled to myself, knowing he would poke and pry until he found out the identity of aforementioned sap. And then he'd get a surprise.

Laughing at me with his gold-green eyes, Cain pushed the bag of ingredients across the counter to me, drawstring pulled tight. "On the house," he remarked almost diffidently. "Provided I hear a full report of the effects."

"Believe me," I replied, accepting the bag with an equally smirking smile, "no one will be better qualified to inform you."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The potion was prepared. The coffee's effects had subsided. Yet I was still jumpy.

"It didn't hurt the gully dwarves," I muttered to myself, remembering the variation I'd successfully cast. But I'd changed so much...even the application...what if it turned out to be poison after all?

Even worse, what if it never wore off? What if they never found the keyword? I'd leaked the anticipated effects onto the internet, knowing Ken at least if not Yamaki would search for answers there (I myself had little use for the place, which I suppose lent my situation with Lain a bit of unneeded irony), and considering where I was casting it (library bathroom) I knew they had a host of resources at their disposal. There was nothing to be worried about. Everything would be fine. I would have control again...except first, I would have to relinquish it.

What if Soren lived up to his promise about attacking Kaizer and got himself killed? Where would that leave me?

"You idiot," I scolded myself, meeting my reflection hourglasses for hourglasses in the mirror. "Either cast it or don't. Just don't stand here dithering!"

The potion gurgled up at me. I glared and the bubbles died down. Perfect. It had a personality. I was going to ingest liquid with a personality.

Dipping a paper cup into the mixture, I held it high. "Here's to you, Soren you dolt," I said aloud, trying not to notice that my hand and voice were shaking.

A gasp came from just outside the door; still holding the potion with my left hand, I flung the door open with my right, releasing the knife bound around my arm with a flick. The blade's point nicked the skin of the spy, and she gave a little cry of fright, her hands going instinctively to the medallion around her neck.

I nearly dropped the cup but smothered my shock. "Not the reunion you anticipated, is it, Revered Daughter?" I asked sibilantly. "Why have you come?" If it didn't mean Judecca would be wiped out of existence, I would murder Lain, I swore. Lumpy mattresses and haughty elves with contraband goods were one thing. This was quite another.

"K-kaizer...he...oh, he's awful, Raistlin, and he wanted me to--"

I noticed the choker around her neck. "Ah. Well, you always acted like a queen. My congratulations."

"No, no, you don't understand!" White-knuckled hands squeezed the medallion even tighter. "I don't want to help him...the way he wants me to. I want to save him..."

I withdrew the knife and laughed aloud. "Was your last endeavor not proof enough? Was being abandoned once not sufficient? What must I do to you now to make you see? Believe me, compared to Kaizer, I am merciful!"

"He's just a boy! And I've learned so much. So much..." Her voice trailed off, her glance dropped away in shame. Such a lovely face. She must have died on Krynn, for my not to notice the signs of age on her body now...

That did it. If I was going to notice things like that, one small potion could do no more harm. I held the cup in front of her blind gaze mockingly. "To you, then, Revered Daughter. It matters not whom I toast. One fool is the same as another." Throwing my head back, I quaffed the mixture.

All of the cinnamon in the world couldn't have prevented this drink from being foul. It bounded almost of its own accord down my throat, hit my stomach with a _plop_. Then the crawling sensation subsided. I waited, tense, to feel something, anything. Nothing. No tingling in my limbs, no unfocusing of my vision. Crysania pressed herself up against the wall in fear, not certain what was happening but afraid to ask.

"Nothing," I said aloud.

"What?" she asked, eyes wide, staring blankly like a surprised deer.

"Nothing's happened. My potion...didn't work." Unthinkable! I refused to believe it, but it could not be denied. The potion wasn't working. How embarrassing.

I must have looked a fool, standing there quivering with fear over a useless concoction. Funny, really! Hysterical! I, Raistlin Majere, who nearly became a god, can't mix a few ingredients together and get the result I want!

"How wonderful!" I told Crysania, warmth filling me. "The potion didn't work! I had nothing to be afraid of! I'm such a fool, Crysania, such a fool. Worse than my brother, than dear old blundering Caramon. Poor puppy-eyed Caramon." I missed him. Why wasn't he here to laugh at this with me? Everyone should be laughing at me! I wanted everyone to know the joy I felt right now!

"Raistlin, what's wrong with you?" she cried, shirking away.

"Nothing's wrong! That's what's funny! The potion didn't work! Look at me--" I wiggled my fingers in the air, said a few spidery words. "No fireball. My magic's all used up, all gone. And that was such a marvelous spell..." Oh poor, dear sweet Soren, my crystal purity boy too pure for his manipulative master. You were right to walk away, bless your smart little heart. And Lyon! He and I could perform together! The man whose magic doesn't work and the man whose magic works too well. I bet he still felt bad about those phantoms. I needed to tell him that it was all right, that it was actually quite funny. He thinks he's weak because he's too strong. That's called irony, that is, or maybe paradox. One of those blasted terms tutors are so fond of. The word "tutor" is funny, too.

"Don't you think the word 'tutor' is funny?" I asked Crysania, grabbing her arm and pulling her close. She really was such a beautiful woman. How could I have left her behind? How could I have ever let such a marvelous woman go?

Yet she came back to me! Just like Riley! Oh, wonderful Riley. Yamaki doesn't deserve you...but he's a funny man, too. You have to be a funny man to stick noxious chemicals in your mouth and then light them on fire. No one in their right mind would do that.

"Stop it!" she cried. Was I hurting her? I didn't want to hurt her. I didn't want to hurt anyone ever again. Oh, I've hurt so many people! So many wonderful people who just wanted me to be okay! Caramon! Where's Caramon? I have to tell him that I'll be a good brother from now on.

"Where's Caramon?" I asked her. She ought to know. They spent a lot of time together, Crysania and Caramon. I told myself not to be jealous. Good brothers don't get jealous. Good brothers understand. Just like good girlfriends come back to their bad boyfriends. Oh, Crysania!

I wonder if good apprentices come back to their bad tutors...I think I need Soren to for some reason...but what? Oh yes. The spell. Well, the spell's not working, so I don't need him for that. But I do need to tell him that I'm sorry. He's right. I shouldn't have let his best friend become a mindless slave. I'll bet that really put a damper on Soren's day—and Ike's too, for that matter. But then again, I've never been a mindless slave. I'll have to try it sometime.

"Can I be your mindless slave?" I asked Crysania. "You're a good woman so I know you'll be a good mistress."

"Mistress?" Crysania wrenched her arm free. "Raistlin, there is something wrong with you! I'll go get help!"

"I need you, Crysania, don't leave me!" She wanted to help me, just like everyone else. People were so nice, and Crysania was the nicest. I felt like I could kiss her, long and hard.

So I did.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

a/n: I don't know how to break this to you, Raistlin, but I think you're wrong about that there spell...

FYI, Cain is from "The Cain Saga" by Kaori Yuki, which is composed of the stories "Count Cain" and "Godchild." "Godchild" is currently partially available in America, with "Count Cain" coming out in the fall under the name "The Cain Saga." Confused?

Kain with a "K" is from Final Fantasy IV...thanks, HWB! Now review me!

No blog posting today. I've wasted too much time writing this as is.

Coming up next: Raistlin continues to take a ride on the happy train as the rest of his group frantically tries to get him back to normal...but Kaizer sees his chance and strikes. Lucemon POV...ahem, I mean Cupimon.

Heck, I guess I'll put a picture of Cupimon on my blog so you all know what he looks like. I haven't got any of C/Kain.

See you soon...the sooner, the better. (Raistlin, stop hugging me!)


	9. Canto IX: Cupimon

Brace yourself, folks. This baby's long...and comes with quite a few disclaimers. First, the supporting cast gets larger, and I don't own the new guys, the Escaflowne people do. Second, to those of you who have not/are beginning to see Esca (o), you may notice things about one character seem a little...off. Don't think about it too hard. I tried not to write this particular canto so it would have blatant spoilers in it, but...yeah, if anyone was planning on seeing the show, do it before Canto...erm...uh...before long, ok? Third, please put up with Cupimon. I know he's random, I know he's OOC, but I've written him like this for so long it'd be like making him out of character for REMSG to switch to his real personality. I don't even remember why I changed it, since I'm usually such a stickler...but oh well.

So no one is mine. I don't own the lizard hat either, though I wore one this summer for work.

**Judecca, Canto IX: Cupimon**

I am nothing if not patient. When the Ten Legendary Warriors locked me in the Dark Area, I waited until the time was just right—until Cherubimon was just jealous enough—to make my move and corrupt the fool. When the pitiful loser failed me, I shrugged it off and dispatched the Royal Knights. Good plans, I know, take time, and sometimes it's best to wait. After all, the world had all but forgotten me, now hadn't it?

So you'll understand just how bad it was if I say that I couldn't stand one more second inside that stupid filing drawer.

I'd spent a day in there—a whole day!--listening to Yamaki give directions to mindless ingorami too lazy to try and find their own stupid books, and I'd be darned if I was going to stay, listening to him trying not to scream at them while they were in his face and muttering to himself once they'd left. And that lighter! Clickclickclickclickclick underneath the desk the whole time. Underneath the desk means nearer my head. I heard the clicking in my sleep. Though I did kinda feel bad for him—and he was much more accommodating, at least to people's faces, than I would have been in his position—there was no way in a million that I was gonna stay there and listen to Mr. Clicky one instant longer. I needed out. Now.

Escape plans, fortunately, happen to be a specialty of mine. (See above notes about earlier imprisonment and glorious resurrection). This particular jail was a simple one, so it got a simple solution—best to keep things balanced, you know, order being crucial in a utopia and all: when a rather frantic lady (probably overweight, to judge by the elephantine earthquakes each footfall sparked) pounded up to the desk and proclaimed that SOMETHING INVISIBLE IS IN THE PARKING LOT and I CAN'T PARK MY CAR NEAR THE LIBRARY and WON'T YOU PLEASE COME SEE BECAUSE MY POOR CHILDREN AREN'T USED TO HAVING TO WALK ACROSS AN ENTIRE PARKING LOT ALL BY THEIR LITTLE TINY SELVES, Yamaki went (grudgingly) to go see exactly what could be wrong, and the instant the clicking noise faded into the distance I hopped out of my drawer and into sweet beautiful freedom.

Okay. Now what?

I couldn't very well escape out the front door, Yamaki and Broad Bertha and the mysterious parking lot obstruction being in my way. And I wasn't sure that my wings in my current form could support my body weight, so that voided jumping out a window. I could smuggle myself out in somebody's bag...but that would only mean more time spent in cramped spaces.

What I definitely couldn't do, though, was just stand by the desk like a moron. The reference desk was in the dead center of the library: beyond the checkout area just before you reached the stacks. Stacks. Hmm. Good enough place to hide for now. Still trapped in the library, but out of the open. Stealthily I snuck into a corridor, large eyes wide to keep on the lookout for any bozos tramping my way. I hated being small.

Digivolve. I needed to digivolve. Now, how to bring that about? Yamaki was supposedly my partner...No! No, I wouldn't rely on him. First, he's who I wanted to escape from in the first place. Second, he probably wouldn't do it. Third, the ruler of the known universe relying on a stressed-out chainsmoker for a power boost? Soo bad for the image, ladies and germs. No, it was going to be Operation Lone Angel this time. Just me, and a need for Fractal Code...and whatever poor sap got in my way who could supply it. Screw secret escape plans. It'd be more fun to go commando. But how was I supposed to kill anything in this body? Yeah, sure, I had attacks, but nothing fast. And time was of the essence.

"What's the point in waiting? Just destroy the place and we're done with it."

An excellent idea! Wait. Who said that? Oh. Crap. There was someone behind me. Lookit me, Sneaky Ninja Meister who forgot to cover his own butt. Hopefully whoever it was hadn't noticed me yet...

Score one for the small guy! I turned around and nearly sighed aloud in relief, hopping up onto a shelf and hiding behind some books. Two men, and neither saw me!

Woah. Freaky looking dudes, though. The younger was wearing black leather and red body armor; with those angry eyes and that silver hair, he coulda passed for Raistlin's little brother. (Come to think of it, where WAS Raistlin? He'd disappeared to the staff kitchen quite awhile ago. Probably cooking up some new way to make all our lives miserable. All that "chance you've always wanted" stuff was bull. He was planning something, and I wanted no part of it. Oh, well. He wasn't here right now, and that's all that mattered.)

The other guy...had a freaking mullet. A floppy lightish turquoise mullet. I'm sorry, but I drew the line at being able to take people with mullets seriously. One of my failings, I know; Takuya had a bit of a mullet and look what he did to me; but to this day I maintain that was not my fault. I should not have lost that battle...ah, but why think about it now? Stay focused. You are ninja, Cupimon. You are ninja. Until you find something to scan so you can digivolve.

These two didn't look like scanning material: anything in dark imposing clothing generally has attitude to match and a rather big mouth (see: Raistlin, Reject, Soren...). But there was nothing keeping me from spying on them...and maybe sneaking out with them? Might be interesting, finding out why people dressed like this were in oh-so-modern Judecca. So I hunkered down for some Very Secret Spying Maneuvers and listened.

"There's no point in that, either." Mullet Man pulled a book off a shelf, started flipping through it. "Unless you want to get killed."

"Hah!" The younger man sneered, started playing with a scar on the right side of his face. "What makes you think anything here can kill _me_?"

"I don't. But I will."

Never before in my life have I heard a man snort in derision, giggle like a little girl, and chortle with pleasure all in the same sound, but this armored guy managed it. "You, Folken? You kill me? Like that, without your--"

"I don't need the arm. No citizens are going to be hurt in this maneuver." Mullet snapped the book shut, releasing a puff of dust, and put it back. Then he pulled out another one...a little closer to my hiding spot. If he made a habit of that, I was going to have some serious issues on my little hands soon.

"Now you play the hero. Don't you know I hate that?" He sidled closer, hand on the hilt of his sword...HOLY CRAP, HE HAD A SWORD...and a bit of a gleam in his wide, red eyes. I can't stand red-eyed people. Like Soren. They always have such attitudes. Dynasmon's eyes were sort of a brownish-red, and look how nuts he could get. This guy was Trouble, with a capital T and quite possibly the B...for Bam! You're dead!. I began to wonder if, in hiding in this particular location, I had committed a serious tactical error. "You weren't so noble in Freid, Folken. I still haven't forgiven you for what happened to Miguel."

"Dilandau." The Mullet Master turned to face his rather unstable-seeming comrade. "I don't know why I'm here. Certainly I cannot understand why you are. But do not forget your place. I was never stripped of my rank. I am still Strategos."

"When it suits you. Sly, Folken. I hate sly people too." Then you gotta meet Raistlin, kid. Please! Meet him and kill him for me!

As the armored man sighed in dramatic frustration, Mullet (or Folken or whatever) replaced his book again, and reached for another one still nearer to my hiding place. Oh shoot. Oh shootshootshoot. They were even closer now. How to get out without being seen?

"Patience. I am almost finished with my research. Soon we can explore this Judecca." Oh, so that's what section I was in. Local history, huh? Too bad I couldn't read. If I was going to overthrow Kaizer or whoever was in charge (an idea that had been fermenting in my mind for quite some time which I was getting increasingly drunk on), I'd need some background info...but if I was going to rebuild anew, what would be the point? "By the way...where did you leave your Alseides?"

"Outside. With the stealth cloak on." Dilan...n...the armored guy pulled out a book too, even nearer to me. One more book, and I was a goner. I could see the headlines: "Super-Deformed Angel Creature Scanned By Mullet Monster In Local Library." Ugh. What an ignominious way to go. "So who's in charge here?"

"It doesn't say. But their headquarters is here." Folken pointed to a picture in his book. "The CS Building. There's actually very little of substance written in any of these books. Almost like the town never had a history...like it was always like this."

"A stable country, eh?" Dil--Dil—oh, I give up—smiled smugly, crazily, cocking one eyebrow a bit. "We can change that."

"More than stable. Unchanging." Folken put his book back. _Don't pick up another one, take your freaky little friend and go!_ I thought in his direction. Never noticed before if I could communicate mind-to-mind with people, but hey, worth a shot.

A totally useless shot. Screw waiting to be discovered. I leaped out from behind the books and hauled sissy ninja butt back to the safety of my filing cabinet, not waiting to hear the pair's responses. Yamaki hadn't gotten back yet, so I was in the clear in that regard. I leaped into the drawer, my momentum carrying me into the back wall and my force pushing back the drawer on its rollers.

Click. It was suddenly very dark.

Wait a minute... "click?" What meant this... "click?"

Gingerly I pushed on the front of the drawer. It didn't move.

I was such a genius. And I officially hated locks everywhere.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Odd," muttered Yamaki as he settled back down into his chair; I could hear it creaking above me and debated yelling for help, but decided that would be too pathetic: pleading for assistance the instant he returned. Let him forget about me and then be plagued with guilt upon discovering how stoically I bore my unjust imprisonment. Let him think he was the one who locked the drawer. "Something is definitely out there. But we can't see it." A tapping sound told me he was on the computer. "I wonder if..."

I knew, sort of, what was in our parking lot. At least, I knew who it belonged to. But I never wanted to see that person again, so I kept my mouth shut. Maybe I would take a nap, and when I woke up, the invisible thing and its owners would be long gone, and I could ask for assistance without the threat of them finding me. Like I said, I'm good at being patient. Plus discovering you'd make a really bad ninja—the hard way—takes a lot out of a person.

But a nap, alas, was not to be. Instead I heard the frantic, slightly nasal sounds of a very freaked Ken Ichijouji descend upon what I'd hoped would be an oasis of peacefulness in a thrashingly chaotic world. "Yamaki, have you seen Raistlin? Because Lyon asked me to tell him that all the fish in the tank are dying and the children are morbidly curious about this and he feels silly in the hat that looks like a lizard and whose idea was it to have a pet-themed kids' room anyway and while he loves children he could do without a million of them screaming and yelling around him while they pull off of the shelves the books he's spent hours sorting and could he please have a new job because he's just too weak for this one--" Ken paused for breath. "But he means no offense by reporting any of this."

Perfect. Lyon was wearing a hat that looked like a lizard and I was locked in a drawer where I couldn't see it.

"I haven't a clue where Raistlin got to. And I don't care. Go outside and tell me what you think's in our parking lot."

"What?"

"There's something invisible parked outside that's blocking most of our parking and the fire lane, which is a hazard should something combust. I need to know what that thing is."

"Something's going to catch fire?"

"Just go see!"

"Yes, sir. I'll check right a—Raistlin! What happened to you? Miss, what's going on?"

"Are you the people he's staying with?" An unfamiliar voice this time—female. She would under normal circumstances, I figured, sound very cool and crisp, but at the moment she sounded on the verge of frightened tears. "He drank something awful!"

Raistlin was drunk?

"Ken! I'm so glad to see you! How are the darling children? Are you helping Lyon with them? But Ken, I need to apologize to you--"

"Raistlin, wait! Get off of me! What are you doing? Please, don't hug me--"

"Ken, I'm so very sorry. But it seemed like such a good idea...well, they all did, except now I see they were all very, very bad, and I'm going to make sure I don't do anything like them ever again! Oh, I can't even say what I did, I'm so ashamed. I guess you'll find out soon enough—No! I have to tell you! I have to tell you because you have to brace yourself and there's nothing I can do about it now. Ken—oh, Ken, I always liked you, so inquisitive with such a bright young mind, too bad you aren't very good at putting the pieces together, but I didn't mean to insult you—oh, no, I did. Did I insult you, Ken? Because I'm very sorry. I can't say enough "very"s for how sorry I am. Very very very very very very very very very very very very--"

Raistlin was DRUNK!

"very very very very very very very very very very very--"

"Knock it off!" Raistlin—at least it sounded like Raistlin's voice—whimpered but did as Yamaki commanded. "Miss, what happened? How'd he get like...this?" The disgust oozing from his voice was obvious. I realized Yamaki hated Raistlin just as much as I did. Instantly he rose in my estimation. Really, he wasn't all that bad a guy...aside from wanting to stop well-meaning benevolent Powers such as myself from dominating the globe.

"I can only suppose it was that mixture he drank," quivered the woman's voice. "He toasted me and drank this horrible potion...and then he..."

"Kissed you. I kissed you. Because I love you, Crysania. And you don't have to worry about me! The potion didn't work! Silly mage can't mix for beans! Must be going daft in my deadness!"

Got that right, ya loony. Suddenly having metal walls separating me from the outside world seemed pretty darn attractive. It certainly wasn't an inhospitable filing cabinet drawer. Nothing unfriendly about it in the slightest.

Yamaki was typing again. "Don' t know why it would be up here..." he muttered, "but you never know...a-hah! Found it."

"Amazing," said Ken, who sounded like he'd had the life squeezed out of him. "Magecraft dot com for your occult online needs. Complete potion encyclopedia, updated hourly..."

"I can read, you know. Get away from my shoulder."

"Um, okay. Sorry."

"Whatcha doing? Can I help?"

"Why don't you go lie down in the back, Raistlin? You're...um...sick. Here, we'll help you." Rustling followed this, presumably Ken and the woman leading Raistlin away somewhere. About thirty seconds later I heard Lyon's voice saying, "Oh Raistlin, there you are! Ken, you didn't really tell him all those—what's wrong with him?" and Raistlin saying, "Lyon! You'll have to teach Soren now because you're the only one whose magic works! Ooh, and your hat is so cute! Did you know lizards are remarkably useful? One time I had this cough, and a friend of mine--"

I stopped listening and concentrated instead on Yamaki. "Lyon, get over here. And bring Soren. I want you to see this."

"What is it?...Oh, no. This is...he took this?"

"Apparently on his own. I _knew_ he was crazy."

"But that can't be! He...he must have had a reason. A spell like this...and he didn't tell anyone the keyword?"

"Not that we know of. Where's Soren?"

"Shelving in the paperbacks. I'll go get him." So was someone gonna say what the spell was already? I wanted out of the drawer. Stupid drawer.

Yamaki groaned, a deep half-sigh that I could practically see deflating him. "First invisible giants and now this...and Hypnos trying to run itself without me back home...at least there I knew what was going on." Oh crud. Invisible giant. I'd forgotten about the weirdo two. The last thing we needed was for Raistlin to make some new friends. Despite myself, I wondered if they were still around.

Footsteps approaching in a hurry heralded Lyon and Soren's arrival. "What is it? I saw Raistlin being practically carried into the back--"

"He took this." Presumably Yamaki pointed out whatever was on the screen, because Soren began to read. And, thank whatever gods ruled his world, he muttered aloud.

"Spell incites good-naturedness...dampening and occasional extinction of magical powers; well, at least he won't be casting anything in that state...friendship towards all he meets...if mixed with residual caffeine, hyperactivity may result...short-term memory loss may occur...so he's going to be annoying and useless from now on? Damn!" Someone—I guess Soren—slammed a fist on the table. "And he's the only one with answers around here! We can't even coax them out of him if he forgets!"

Yamaki took out that confounded lighter and started clicking. "Read the bottom."

"Eventual lethargy that, if the spell is not thwarted by the speaking of a keyword determined by the caster, could result in _death!_" He slammed the desk again. Hey, if he kept that up, I could be free pretty soon. Bust the whole thing wide open. Bet he'd bruise his knuckles, though. "And let me guess: he didn't tell anybody the stupid keyword!" Soren choked on something. I don't know what. "That is so like him! Well, who'll be laughing when he _dies_, huh? No one!"

"Why would he do this?" wondered Lyon. "Why would he possibly--"

"Isn't it obvious? To spite us! He wants us to panic and run around trying to save him while in the back of his mind he can laugh like a giddy drunkard at our stupidity!" Woah, Soren. Hey man, you better lie down too, kid. Don't see you like this too often. "And now Ike...I'll never know how to save Ike!"

Ah. That was it. Concern for Captive Friend. Shoulda thought of that one yesterday when you came home from training in an independent little huff, huh? You stormed around the house making everyone's lives miserable about how you were gonna save Ike (which, by the way, is a monumentally stupid name) all by your little onesie. Bet you're sorry now.

I continued to berate the fool in my head for several minutes, amusing myself with different ways one could insult someone (which all boiled down to "you self-righteous jerk" if you stripped away the fancy words), until Ken came back.

"Raistlin's not looking too good. He said it was too much of a bother to stand up any more, that there were better things to do with his energy, like smiling. So he's lying on his desk and we can't get him to move. What should I do?"

"Eventual lethargy..." whispered Soren.

"Then death," breathed Lyon. "Oh, please no."

Yech. Dramatics. I decided that, before the drama in the air got any thicker, I'd better make my presence known, but a horrific crash and quake interrupted me. I was thrown against the wall of the desk as the building heaved (I guess) and more footsteps pounded towards the little gathering. Above sudden screams I heard that idiot elf:

"My sword! Where has he sequestered my sword? We are attacked!...what have you on your head, human?"

"Oh. A lizard hat."

"What?...Never mind, to war!" Somebody's hand scrabbled around, and I heard a scraping sound. "Here it is, under this table. Step aside, for I must combat these attackers!" And with that, I suppose he grabbed his sword and left. Good riddance.

"Wait!" Off Ken and Soren ran—I guessed Ken went to look after Raistlin and Soren followed ol' Pointy Ears. Feanor, that's his name. The one who lived in his son's brain for awhile. Which left me, Yamaki, and Lyon by the desk still.

"Yamaki, we have to get out of here!" begged Lyon.

"We have to find a cure for that spell!" Yamaki protested. "You go back to the house; it's still got a ward on it, but no computer. I'll look up possible keywords and once Raistlin's better--"

"YOU IDIOT!"

The words were out of my mouth before I realized it, and the minute I did I clapped both hands over the offending body part. I hadn't meant to say that. I hadn't wanted to say that...oh, yes I did. I was mad. Very, very mad. And I didn't even know why.

The drawer opened. Two faces stared down at me: Yamaki, despite his sunglasses looking very puzzled (so he HAD forgotten about me), and Lyon, looking stupid with a giant yellow plush lizard stuck onto his head. The legs hung down on either side of his ears and the tail bounced against his neck.

"What good will that do?" I asked Yamaki, furious. I started this rant, so I might as well finish it. "If whatever's out there gets us, it won't matter if we have a keyword or not! Just because you wanna play the hero doesn't mean you have to stoically stay behind! Forget Raistlin; forget that without him you can't go home! Who says you can't find your own way? Who says this place is worse than the one you left? You do! Some notion you've got knocking around your empty human head! This is why I want utopia: because idiots like you never see how what they think is right and noble is actually just really, really, dumb..." I started to cry. I have never cried before in my life. I didn't even know I had tear ducts. "...and how sad you'll make Riley if you die. People call me selfish; what about you? You want all the glory for yourself!"

Yamaki stared at me; Lyon mumbled something about looking after Raistlin and ran off, tail wagging in the wind behind him. Slowly Yamaki picked me up, held me at arm's length, marveling at something or other. "I don't..." he began. "It's all for the people."

"So is utopia," I snuffled. "Yet what do you do to people who dream of that? You lock them in filing drawers."

"You want to brainwash and enslave--"

The building shook again. "You know what?" I asked, the rage lessening. I was actually quite proud of that speech in retrospect. Nice touch, bringing Riley in. I hadn't even known I cared about her feelings. Why would I? Was I going soft? Musta been the lack of oxygen in that drawer. "Let's talk about this outside. Far away from here."

"No," said Yamaki. "We're staying right here." He set his lighter on the table, reached into his pocket for something else: his digivice. "You're right; saving Raistlin won't do any good if we can't find the keyword in time. But I'm right too. Why run when we can fight?"

So he was one of those types, eh? The active ones. Maybe I'd found myself a new Dynasmon. Just a bit of time, a little more trust...and he could be mine. And (I might as well be honest with myself) I liked the guy.

Actually, I thought as his digivice glowed and I felt power rush into me, expanding and altering my body in a burst of glorious ascension, I liked the guy a _lot_.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

So. That's what was parked outside, huh? Not too shabby. Nice flamethrower on that sucker. Though I wouldn't have picked a guy in body armor to be the giant-robot type.

A horrific, giddy giggling sliced through the air as the claws on the giant red robot sliced through a light pole; cocking the other arm, flames shot out and licked the buildings. The library itself remained untouched due to a shimmering bubble-shield that appeared every time the flames grew close, but I thought I saw the shield cracking. Now that its caster was, ahem, debilitated, it didn't have much longer to live. I couldn't see who was in the robot, but I didn't need to. I only knew one person who giggled like that, and his name was—well, I didn't know how to pronounce it, but it was him, all right.

"Burn!" he cackled as an SUV exploded. "BUUURRN!"

"Dilandau!" barked his companion from where he stood, watching. "You must stop!"

"Oh, but I haven't had my kind of fun in a long time, Folken. You had your turn and now it's mine. We'll smoke out whoever brought us here! That will get us answers fast!"

Hold on. Did Raistlin summon these guys? Naaah, they weren't his style. So there was another person with that kind of magic around? Maybe we could let Raistlin die after all.

But I knew I couldn't let _Yamaki_ die, which at the moment seemed far more likely. Raistlin had been taken back to the house on Antenora, and Yamaki was still right here. So were Lyon and Soren, bu that was beside the point. If Yamaki died, I lost my power. And what bee-utiful power it was.

Flapping every set of white-feathered wings, even the ones on my head, I soared up towards the brilliant sun, dazzled by the lights both above and below me for a second and then righting myself. I was Lucemon again, and I was glad of it, but I couldn't let my euphoria detract from the fact I was fighting a freaking giant robot. And take it from me: Digimon who _look_ like giant robots are a lot easier to kill than the real thing.

"Hey, hot stuff!" I shouted. Pathetic, yes, but I needed to get his attention somehow. "Want a real opponent?"

"Oh?" The robot turned to face me, cape rippling behind it. "Awfully small to fight one-on-one, aren't you? This might not even be worth my time."

I was hoping he would say that. "GRAND CROSS!" I yelled, attack blazing from my palms. Boo-yah, folks. Your Master's back. Bow to his power.

The red robot sure did; I doubled the thing over, probably just because he wasn't expecting it. Pyro (I think I'll just call him that from now on, as it's easier than Dil—Dilann—see? "Pyro" is so much better) made a sort of _chthack_ing sound as his ride took the hit. "Wha—what? Oh, you're good. Maybe this _will_ be fun."

You can shoot liquid metal claws, Mr. Roboto? I've got eye beams. I zapped him but good, then swooped upward, out of (I hoped) firing range. Poor widdle wobot, awl awone on the gwound. He can't catch the big bad angel, oh no he--

Oh crap. My wings were on fire. The stupid thing could fly; it changed its form so it looked kinda cocooned, and was now levitating behind me, roasting just my wings to a warm golden brown. And, of course, Pyro was loving it. I swear he sounded like a little girl riding a horsey on the merry-go-round, except he was burning me out of the sky._ Some_body had issues, man. Even Dynasmon never _giggled_.

Needless to say, I couldn't maintain altitude for very long. Down I fell, trying not to scream from the pain that had finally kicked in but mostly just feeling very, very stupid. Never get cocky in the middle of a battle! I scolded myself. You yourself take advantage of opponents who do that! Idiot! You literally flaming--

A sea of souls rose to break my fall; I felt every byte of my fractal code shiver as the undead hands of Lyon's phantom army guided me gently back to earth. "Coulda done that sooner," I snapped, not about to harm my dignity further by saying "thank you" to a man in a lizard hat. "Like when the battle started, maybe? Get in there!"

Lyon shook his head, hitting himself in the face with the hat's front legs. "I don't want to hurt him. I can't control the phantoms..."

"He's killing everything!" I shrieked. "And we're next!"

"Feanor's the warrior, not me."

"Feanor has a flippin' sword and is fighting a man with a mullet." This was true; I guess even the fabled madman of the Noldor didn't mess with giant robots with flamethrowers if his Silmarils weren't involved. He picked easier prey, though as swordsmen the two were evenly matched. "You have this entire army of dead people—_dead people_, who feel no pain and can be resurrected ad nauseum—at your disposal and yet you say you won't fight?"

"I'm back," panted Ken, running up and interrupting my second quality rant of the day. Snapping his goggles of creation (handy things, those) into place over his eyes, he set about constructing something for himself out of thin air. From what I could tell, it looked like a giant robot version of his partner, Stingmon. "Hold him off. I'll be right there."

But what shape, I wondered, will you be in when you're done? Creating stuff with his mind and his goggles took a lot out of Ken, and he was worn pretty thin as it was. No, I wouldn't depend on him to be of much use. Best to just keep berating Lyon until I broke him down. Lyon was usually so _easy_ to break down. The wuss.

Unfortunately, when I turned back to my wuss-in-progress his eyes were wide and he was staring at something behind me. Never a good sign. "It can't be..." he stammered. "How can it?"

Ken looked up. His project vanished as his eyes unfocused. "How..." he began. "It's...it's..."

"IKE!" screamed Soren. Okay, I figured, I'll bite, and turned around.

At first I didn't see what the big deal was. A blue-haired swordsman was standing on the giant robot, wrestling to affix what looked like a giant black bracelet to its arm, while Pyro tried to figure out how to knock his boarder off without taking pieces of his robot too. Maedhros of all people had shown up and was now engaged in combat with Feanor as Mullet Man slunk backwards into the shadows; Feanor was about thirty thousand shades lighter than his normal pale skin, which is saying a lot. "Nelyafinwe..." he gasped as Maedhros tried to cut his head off. "Heed my words! I am your father!"

"No father," Maedhros panted, striking again. "Have no father. Just have Kaizer."

Kaizer? A chugging sound alerted me of a third new party: a young boy sitting astride an enormous black motorcycle with a very smug look on his very familiar face.

"I found your evil twin," I told Ken, who didn't seem to hear me. His eyes were locked on Kaizer's face. _His_ face. "How can it..." he mumbled.

Kaizer looked over and was equally shocked. "What! Who—what are you doing here! Did Raistlin create you to fight me?"

"The Digimon Emperor..." Ken looked more than a little dazed. "It's the Digimon Emperor."

KaizerCaesarEmperor. Holy freaking heck. Somebody reconstructed Ken's evil alter ego. This was definitely a problem...unless it had Ken's weaknesses too.

"We can take him," I shouted, stepping forward past the seemingly frozen Soren (okay, not quite frozen; he quivered quite a bit) and readying another Grand Cross. I was down, but not out. Who needed wings, anyway? They tickled.

"Wait," said Soren. "You'll hit Ike." The man in question had finished his task, the robot had seemingly shut down the instant the band was affixed, and as the blue-haired warrior mounted the motorbike behind Kaizer, Pyro climbed out of his cockpit. "What did you pissants do to my Guymelef?" he shouted, drawing his sword.

It was over in an instant. Kaizer snapped his fingers and the robot—still without a pilot, heck , with the cockpit open--torched its own owner. As Pyro crumpled to the ground, blistered but still heaving for breath (and whimpering a bit, it seemed), Kaizer hollered, "Pawn Mark Two! We got what we came for. Fall back!"

Maedhros struck one last time, then turned and ran for the motorcycle. Mullet Man saw his chance, grabbed his companion, and sprinted away. Kaizer revved the bike, but at the last second Ken ran out into the street, screaming. "Wait! Come back! Who are you? What do you want with this world?"

"Shut him up, Ike," Kaizer ordered over his shoulder, and as he and Maedhros drove away Soren's bestest friend in the whole wide world slammed the flat of his sword against Ken's gut, jumped into the robot, and took off too. Ken crumpled to the ground, and the instant he hit the pavement Soren sprang back to life. "Ike! Come back!" He ran forward too, and I feared the whole farce would repeat itself, but Ike didn't even look back.

Ever notice how it never rains until after all the tragic stuff has happened? How nature hates everyone and is constantly out to get them (another reason utopia would be useful)? If you have, it will come as no surprise that, as Lyon ran forward to assist Ken and Soren hollered after his turncoat buddy, and as Yamaki recalled my power and I shrank back to Cupimon again, the skies opened up and bawled on us for a full fifteen minutes.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The rain had stopped sobbing. Soren hadn't.

"Raistlin, please...open your eyes...I'm sorry about what I said. Ike's too far gone for me to save him on my own."

Open his eyes? I'd be happy if he just stopped smiling. It was later in the evening of the Great Robot Escapade, we were all safe and sound in 616 Antenora Avenue (except for the lady who Raistlin had kissed; apparently she hadn't been able to make it through our front door for some reason and had run off clutching a choker she was wearing and screaming—yes, I think that's weird, too), and Raistlin would neither open his eyes nor get out of bed.

"So soft..." he kept mumbling, an empty smile on his thin lips. "So cozy. Could just lay here...forever...with the people I love..."

"Raistlin, Ken is dying. You have to help him," Riley pleaded. "We need you here, Raistlin. Don't leave us."

Yamaki said nothing: he'd stolen the computer from the library and was hard at work online, picking the darn place dry of keyword ideas.

"Never leave here...too nice...such nice people here...best place in the world..."

"No, it's not!" snapped Soren. "It's sadistic and it's twisted and it's all your fault, so you better wake up and tell us why you did this to yourself—and to us. Why you let that happen to Ike."

"Ike...don't know an Ike...nice boy?"

"He was, until Kaizer got a hold of him! Isn't Kaizer your enemy? Live to fight him! Fight him, because I...I can't." Soren hung his head. "I froze in combat, the one area of magic I can use, and now a member of the company is dying. I hate this place, but I'll do my duty. Yet already I've failed."

"Failed." Feanor was a little out of it too; the color hadn't returned to his cheeks yet. "My son..." Honestly, I didn't know what he was so upset about. He hated Maedhros; why wasn't he vindicated that Maedhros finally returned the feelings? He'd gotten rid of his useless son. I knew that if I lost Maedhros, I wouldn't miss him. Maedhros was annoying.

"Good apprentice...best I ever had...now let me sleep..."

"NO!" Soren screamed. "I will not! I am _not_ a good apprentice, and I won't let you kill yourself so you can chuckle at us in the afterlife! This is your fault, now fix it! Fix it, because I can't..."

"...goodbye, Soren..."

"...I can't, and I want to be stronger, like you...no, stronger than you, so I can save people...stronger than my master."

"Then why, my dear apprentice, are you sitting here clutching my hand like a vice while that idiot in the other room slowly kills himself?" Raistlin asked sharply, sitting up suddenly. "Hurry and get the herbs from the medicine cabinet!"

"What?" Soren stared blankly, as did everyone else in the room.

"Are you deaf as well as doltish, apprentice? The herbs!" Raistlin tossed the covers aside as he swung himself out of bed. Catching Riley and Lyon's incredulous stares, he glared at them. "Riley, bring hot water. Lyon, take that preposterous item off your head. Apprentice, follow me. I see I have baffled your mind with this task, so I shall do it myself." He swept out of the room, Soren hard on his heels. Riley followed. Lyon took off the hat at last.

For my part, I sat right where I was and blinked for several seconds. Finally I said some of the most profound words ever uttered in such a situation; indeed, the very words running through everyone's heads.

"Okay...what just happened?"

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o000o00o0o0o0

"Angel." Raistlin had this habit of sneaking up behind me and speaking suddenly that I really hated. But I think I covered my jump of shock pretty well. "Where is your partner?"

"Who, Yamaki? Smoking out his frustration that we didn't realize you'd pick a lame arrogant word like 'master' from the start."

"And how is he?"

"Alive. Grumpy. How should I know?" If Raistlin wasn't going to give information, then he wasn't going to get it. Certainly not from me. And certainly not on the same day that he nearly scared the living daylights out of us all.

"Excellent." He drew out the last syllable of the word in a hiss of satisfaction. I turned around, suddenly wary.

"Now what are you up to?"

"I have...a business associate who seems to have overstepped her bounds as of late. She seems to think that, though I am running this operation, she can hire coworkers whenever she sees fit...and whoever she sees fit. I must keep my end of a bargain with her to keep her in check."

I was even more on my guard now. But no more ninja sneaky. We'd all seen what that had gotten us. "And you need Yamaki...why?"

"She requires companionship. Let's just say...I have a job for him."

"This isn't the sort of job that would make Riley a very sad girl, is it?" I ventured.

Raistlin's lip curled in disgust, and I knew I'd overdone it. He turned and stalked off, not even deigning to give my crudeness a reply. I let him stalk. He had annoyed us, frightened us, and very nearly gotten us all killed, but in the end I had won out over him. I had been more annoying.

Utopia could only be days away.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

a/n: Who are the mysterious two people Cupimon encountered in the stacks of the library? What do they have planned for Judecca? And what does Raistlin want Yamaki to do? Keep wondering, because I'm not telling you in the next canto! Hah hah!

Sorry...really, I derive no pleasure from making people wait, but for the sake of the story those questions are best answered another time. Instead, we have Ken taking stock of the situation, making a request of Raistlin, and a Handy Plot Device drawn from my very own life. (Giant ravens not included in my experience.)

See you next time, then...if the Keep Lucemon In Character Squad hasn't moero-d me out of existence.


	10. Canto X: Ken

Well, here it is, the last canto before I head off to the big wicked world of college, and I'm having to swat pyromaniacs off of my paper with a very large stick. sound of wood hitting something Stop that! Go away! You aren't in this canto! You're a supporting character!...God, at the rate this is going, I'll be singing "You're so vain, I bet you think this story's about you..." before long. Well, it's NOT. You hear me, Albatou? It's about Raistlin and Soren...and, in this installment, Ken.

I own NOTHING here...except the right to say who's featured in a chapter and who isn't, so hint hint to the guy trying to crawl into my outline when he thinks I'm not looking.

**Judecca, Canto X: Ken**

My abdomen still hurt, but that wasn't why I had decided to stay in bed. Raistlin had looked at where Ike had hit me and proclaimed the damage to be nothing more than a very large, painful bruise, but he hadn't been there when it had happened and didn't understand why I'd been scarred. I didn't care about bruises or aches. I wasn't afraid of physical pain. What terrified me...petrified me...undid me completely was...

"So is he really your evil twin or did you just discover someone cloned you without your permission? Yamaki says there's no way it was a clone, it couldn't have looked that old if it had been, but I think your human science works in some pretty dodgy ways sometimes and, frankly, you don't know what you're doing and make up a buncha theories to cover the fact. Now, Digimon? If it works, it works, no questions asked. Need to scan something to become stronger? Nobody wonders how or why, they just kill the closest sap stupid enough to get in their way. Want to create utopia? All you gotta do is..."

"Lucemon." I was shaking with pain and rage but didn't want him to notice either. "Go away."

"It's Cupimon now, remember?" He huffed and hopped off the bed, trying to stalk off indignantly but failing. "See if I include you in utopia when the time comes."

"We've been through that," I muttered, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. "It's impossible." Utopia could not possibly come about—true utopia, with everyone in harmony—but then again, if someone had asked me two days ago if the Digimon Emperor could rip himself from my body I'd have shivered, but put on a brave face and say the Spore would never control me again. I'd finally mastered it. I'd overcome that darkness...and I had a right to be proud of that achievement! Except now it looked like I'd never really been in control after all. Something had given him life. And whatever sins he committed...they were my fault, for failing to stamp out the lingering traces of who I'd been, buried deep within remorse and anger and fear. The Emperor's faults were my faults, magnified. That was all the Dark Spore had done, magnify them. Every whiplash, every Control Spire, every innocent life that suffered...every building destroyed by Kimeramon's blind madness...they had all been the result of my imperfection. And I'd dared, in that state, to call myself a perfect person!

Another impossibility, I'd have said...if not for Sam...and others, others who achieved a level of self-reliance I could only dream of, of disconnection I longed for but at the same time shrank from...others like Davis, and...

"Ken, if you are not dressed and ready for work in fifteen minutes I shall turn you into a cricket and swallow you whole. I have neither the time nor the patience to be mollycoddling children today." Raistlin swept through the room like a gale heralding a hurricane, yanking my sheets off and tossing my clothes at me. "Fifteen minutes." The door slammed, and he was gone.

What did he need me for? I was useless. Yesterday's battle had proved that. I didn't want to go to work today. Then I'd see all the wreckage...destruction I'd been helpless to prevent. Without Wormmon, what was I? A nuisance. A hindrance. A supposed "team member" who'd gotten himself injured in a spontaneous fit even he didn't understand. To use Raistlin's word, a child.

That all had to change. But how?

"Ken, I need my robe. Open up. Don't make me blast the door down," Soren , apparently of one mood with Raistlin this morning. Automatically I got up and fetched the object...but in the back of my head the gears had begun to turn, and I saw at last the course I had to take.

O0o0o0o0o0

"Don't even think about apologizing," growled Raistlin as he picked at his chicken broth; Riley had him on a liquid diet due to his "illness" yesterday and he was certain she was doing it to be spiteful. I didn't see why there should be a problem, as Raistlin never ate much of anything, but announcing that would be tantamount to suicide. And I couldn't die now. Not when I finally had a plan. "That twit of a necromancer supplied an ample amount for the entire household."

"Um, I wasn't going to. Um..." I bit my lip. This was going to be harder than I'd thought. I had him alone for now, but how long would that last? I didn't want any of the others around if he turned me down. When he turned me down. Maybe this was a bad idea after all...but Davis would say I'd never know unless I tried, and I needed to be more like Davis today. Davis wouldn't care that the enemy was wearing his face. Davis was never useless. "I...I want you to teach me magic."

Raistlin's spoon clattered into the bowl. Drops of soup splashed on the table, but those normally fastidious golden hands didn't bother to wipe them up. "You _what_!" he hissed, grabbing my arm.

My voice was going to crack, I knew it, and with it would crumble my resolve. Stiffening, I tried to look grave and responsible, tried to feel grave and responsible, but was suddenly only cold. "I want to be a mage like Soren. I want to be your apprentice. I don't want to be useless or fail anyone ever again. I'm tired of people getting hurt because of me, and if Kaizer continues to have his way with this town that's exactly what's going to happen. I can't...I can't just shelve books and feed fish knowing that there's a despot on the loose whose every crime is mine. And when I create things with the goggles, it takes too much time. In a fight, I haven't got that luxury. I need instant power. I need magic. I'm tired of letting the Emperor hurt me. I want...I want the Emperor to hurt because of _me_ this time!" I stopped, surprised at the ferocity of my own voice and words. Did I really want that? Did I really want another person to suffer?

But it's not another person, came a voice from my gut. It's yourself. You want to wring yourself out until there's nothing left of the boy who called himself Emperor, because he keeps coming back and he's stronger than you. You couldn't leave him behind in the illusion, back in the battle with MaloMyotismon when everyone—including yourself—thought you'd gotten over him for good. He was just waiting.

"I see." Raistlin slowly withdrew his hand, finally took his napkin and mopped up the table. "Unbutton your shirt."

"What?"

"Just do as I say." Fumbling with my buttons, I watched him stand and place the napkin down absentmindedly, eyes far away and feverish with the glitter of calculations. "So this is what you want. I search for an apprentice and you claim the eagerest has been under my nose all along?" He shot me a glance. "I had not expected this of you."

Neither had I, I felt like confessing, but kept up my strong front. "I may not have Soren's talent, but...I'll make up for that. I'm a hard worker."

"I know," he mused, and I blinked: had that just been a compliment? "Yet I am not sure you understand."

He turned to me, looked me in the eyes. "The magic will not come effortlessly," he breathed, half warning me and seemingly half in rapture with what he was saying. "You must give of yourself, all of yourself, sacrifice any other happiness you might have found in this life. But in return, the power you will gain is immense. Power over life, over death..." His already soft voice trailed off. "Over the very souls of others." Sliding one golden hand into a pocket of his robes, he withdrew a pendant adorned with a single green stone, shot through with red: an opal. A bloodstone. "Why, with this artifact alone..."

Raistlin could move swiftly when he wanted to; in an instant he was at my side, gingerly pressing the bloodstone against my bare chest. "Were I to speak the incantation, this would suck the life-force from your body and transfer it to me," he whispered. "I have done it before, to one more powerful than you. This is what the magic has taught me. This is the power you will be seeking if you ask for help from me. Is that what you really want?"

Sweat speckled my forehead; I breathed heavily, feeling the bloodstone's cool surface on my chest, smelling the rose petals hung around Raistlin's waist. The world seemed dark and cold to me, suddenly, with nothing filling the void but that pressure, that smell, and the fire flickering behind a pair of eerie hourglass eyes.

Swallowing, I met their gaze. My mouth was dry, but I spoke anyway. "If it will help me protect what I love...then yes, that is what I want."

There was no tremor in my voice, I noted; I felt no spasm cross my features. The movement of my chest beneath the stone was deep and regular. I was not afraid, I told myself, or if I was I would crush that fear. There had to be something within me stronger than it.

Seemingly satisfied, Raistlin withdrew the bloodstone, secreted it again. "Very well. Prepare to depart with Soren and I in five minutes' time. Your apprenticeship begins now."

o0o0o0o0o0

"I can't believe it," muttered Soren as we worked our way through the stacks at the library. "Why would you want to do a stupid thing like that? The man is ruthless. The fact that we need him doesn't mean we should entrust absolutely everything to him!"

He hadn't sounded so sure last night. I had heard him crying to Raistlin in the other room, and my soul had echoed his calls. But he was still angry at being used, and with that I could most definitely sympathize. Raistlin _was_ behaving in a way that, had I not been so desperate, I would have fought against with all my might. But I had to save my energy for Kaizer now. "Don't you want us to get stronger?" I asked. "If I learn the magic, maybe Kaizer will go down faster."

"Kaizer is mine," snapped Soren. "Just because you look the same doesn't mean he hurt you most."

"It's not a competition," I shot back.

"Don't give me that! We both have our reasons for wanting Kaizer gone. Of course we're going to compete to dispose of him." Soren glared bitterly at me. "It would make more sense for us to team up and take him down together, but I don't think we will. We're beorc, and beorcs are such a messed-up race, when you get right down to it. They don't deserve to lord themselves over others..."

"Give people a chance," I argued, already used to Soren's strange word for the human race. "Most of them are just looking for an answer they aren't even sure exists."

"And you've found yours?" he asked. "In the magic?"

I nodded. "I think so." I hoped so, I wished so. I would make it so.

Soren returned to his shelf perusal. "I found my answer, too." His voice hardened. "Then Kaizer took it from me."

The cries of a million Digimon whose friends I'd enslaved echoed in that sentence, and I had to grit my teeth and close my eyes to stay standing. What about them, Soren? You aren't alone. Whereas I...no one else in the group, except maybe Lyon, seemed overly remorseful about what they'd done in the past, "Recovering" Evil Madmen Support Group or no. Yet even Lyon was more ashamed than anything else, trying to get through each day without messing up rather than trying to fix whatever problem he'd created, and I...I couldn't understand that. An eye for an eye. By my own rules, I should have never been given a second chance. That's why I believed in humanity. They were all so much better than I was.

"If you two are quite done your little spat, we have a situation on our hands here," reported Raistlin, leaning on a half-empty bookcase. At first I didn't understand what he was talking about, then it dawned on me. We'd come to work despite the destruction outside for the sake of picking up spellbooks and other arcane volumes for Soren and I to study, and were in the right section, but...

"All the books on magic have been checked out," I noticed aloud.

Raistlin shot me a half-amused, half-disgusted look. "Most observant."

"So what do we do now?" asked Soren. "Challenged Soren" would be closer to the point, but he was trying to mask his contempt—and obviously hating every minute of it. This was one individual who could not stand treading lightly.

Raistlin switched his staff to his other hand and swept purposefully past us, back towards the circulation counter. "We pay a little visit to whoever has them out."

o0o0o0o0o0

"Ptol me In ?" I wondered aloud, looking at the flickering electric sign above the triangular castle-shaped building.

"Ptolomea Inn," replied the armored man standing guard, his lance barring the thick wooden doors. "Some of the bulbs burned out."

"I see," said Soren, obviously not impressed, but the guard was too busy listening to Raistlin explain our situation (or a highly edited and occasionally fabricated version of our situation) to hear the remark.

"...and we must speak with this patron at once. As librarians concerned for our collection's well-being."

"Nothing will happen to your books here, Raistlin. _They_ wouldn't like it." The guard jerked his head in the direction of a sign on the door.

"Demon Kings Yuuri Shibuya and Orsted, Proprietors...Now Hiring Demon King for Third Tower?" Soren read aloud.

"They each get a tower, see? Orsted sleeps in the one to the right, Yuuri in the one to the left, and the one in the back behind the courtyard and the pool is empty." The guard did not exactly sound thrilled to be having this conversation. "Ah, just go in. But if you try to sell anything..."

"We wouldn't dream of it," Raistlin assured the man in his best patronizing tone, and herded the two of us in.

"Think we should tell Lyon about that vacancy?" Soren whispered to me as Raistlin went to speak with the man behind the counter immediately inside the inn, a tall blonde fellow wearing orange armor. The blending of the medieval and the modern within Judecca puzzled me; at first I'd thought it was an ordinary twenty-first-century-type town, but I'd been noticing an increase in swords, robes, and other paraphernalia that was anything but. Why, even this inn was sandwiched between a weapons vendor and a coin-operated laundromat!

"Huh? No, I like having him around."

"He's okay. Think I could pass for a Demon King?"

"Thinking of leaving again?" I asked, wondering if Soren had an impish side I'd somehow overlooked.

"Perhaps." Our conversation was cut short as Raistlin beckoned us to come speak to someone, a girl a few years older than me working behind the counter in a barmaid's dress. Her dark brown hair was cropped short; it framed her round cheekbones and accented her pouty mouth. Her brown eyes darted from me to Soren to Raistlin—the latter two in robes today instead of street clothes—with apprehension.

"I'm Yuka Sugimoto," she said in answer to Raistlin's query. "What do you want?"

"I'm the head librarian of the Judecca Public Library," Raistlin replied smoothly, producing a business card from who-knows-where, "and I understand you checked out quite a few volumes yesterday. Concerning...sorcery."

Yuka gestured around the room. "Look at this place. My one boss is a high-schooler with a soul-sucking sword. The other one wears full body armor even when he sleeps. I haven't read fantasy in a long time. I need to brush up on what I might be dealing with, especially..." Her voice trailed off.

"This isn't the first time you've been in a strange world, is it?" Raistlin asked gently. I started, unaware Raistlin could sound so concerned, then realized as Soren sort of growled what the mage was up to. He was trying to charm her into revealing information. Raistlin could be charming. Soren could be impish. Who knew?

Yuka wouldn't meet his eyes. Not many people care to. "No," she admitted gruffly. "And I screwed up real bad in the last one, so I'm trying again, okay? I never wanted another chance. I was fine with a normal life. I didn't ask to be brought here."

"No one said you did. Now listen, Yuka. We need to borrow those books back from you. It's a matter of some urgency, for you're right, this place is dangerous. But we can make use of those books, Yuka, while you can only learn what might creep up and smite you in your sleep—not that there's much chance that Kaizer will resort to random massacre of civilians." He was smiling, but it was a predator's smile. Kaizer's smile, I thought for a moment, the smile of a man drunk on control, but banished that train of thought. Raistlin had no such aspirations. I couldn't allow myself to believe he did. _Recovering_ Evil Madman, _Recovering_ Evil Madman...

He was still talking, and she was looking at him directly now. "Of course, we can give you a role that will help you make a difference. We shall return the books and visit, as often as we can, and you can report anything that makes you uneasy. With your position here, in the center of a popular gathering area, you can detect potential difficulties better than almost anyone. You'll get home safely, Yuka. You have my word as a wizard of the..." Raistlin's voice caught in this throat and he nearly coughed; I was surprised he hadn't slumped into a fit already. "...of Lunitari's order." He pulled aside his black cloak to reveal robes the color of dried blood beneath them. You see, Ken? Red. Not black. Nothing to fear...no reason to worry when your mind is finally made up. Red. Not black.

But what color was the soul behind that red curtain?

O0o0o0o0o0

"So we got books and a spy out of that," Soren remarked to no one in particular, sitting down in the chair opposite Raistlin's gargantuan Head Librarian desk. "If you wanted to know what was going on in that inn, you could have used a spell."

"What, and discover too late that Kaizer has a mage on his side who can trace it? No, apprentice, as weak as they are, sometimes people are the best weapons. She will not betray us."

"You sound so certain." We could all hear the "why" hanging in the air, but Raistlin made no answer to Soren's silent query. Raistlin was in control. That was all we, as apprentices, needed to know.

"Don't you two have jobs?" Raistlin asked suddenly, and we both jumped up and scurried out. Well, I did. Soren has probably never scurried in his life.

"On second thought, Ken, come back here," Raistlin's soft voice drifted out of the doorway, and I was instantly ashamed of the abject nature of my exit. "Sit back down."

I did. "What is it, Raistlin?"

"You need to know this before you develop any fanciful ideas about the nature of the magic. I can see those castles you're building, and as with all imaginary structures the foundations are less than solid. Ken, you may not have what is necessary to be a mage."

Two hours in his service, not a single spell, and already dismissal? What had I done? "I don't understand, sir. How have I failed you?"

He waved a ridiculing hand. "Not that. I mean within. The gods choose to bless people in some ways and curse them in others. I was given this body, but the magic in return. Feanor was given enormous talents, but unfortunately not the sanity to match. Lucemon was not given much of anything save an overinflated sense of self-worth, but that itself can be more damaging than any other virtue or vice. But I digress. You are not from a world of magic, Ken. You may not have the innate ability."

I hadn't thought of that. Now what would I do? "You mean you've changed your mind?"

"I mean don't do anything stupid thinking that the magic will save you, because it might not!" Raistlin snapped. "No one gets everything they want, yet you seem to think it's your God-given right. Such is the luxury of the young, I suppose, but you should be intelligent enough to deduce your place in the world."

Was he trying to give me advice? And what did he mean...my place in the world? I opened my mouth to ask him but never got a chance.

"Excuse me? Head Librarian? The...ah...gentlemen at the desk told me you would be here." The speaker was a wiry woman in about her mid-30s, shaking a bit where she stood and speaking in a definite "library voice" whisper. I groaned. The "gentleman" in question was most likely Feanor, whom we had literally chained to the desk to keep him from rushing off to reclaim his stolen son. I felt bad for Maedhros, he was one of the reasons Kaizer was going down, but I would have felt worse if Feanor had gotten hurt after he finally realized he cared about his heir. Why had Kaizer had to make everything so complicated for everyone? Why couldn't those destructive tendencies just stayed inside of me? I wanted to purge the suffering from my body, but I would have gladly suffered alone if the world's safety had been guaranteed.

"What do you want?" Raistlin hissed irritably. I had the feeling he'd been looking forward to chewing me out for something, and frantically I tried to determine what I'd done wrong. My place in the world? Did he think I'd unleashed Kaizer? No, he couldn't be that stupid...

"Sir, my purse was just stolen from my car!"

Well. You don't expect to hear that in a library. That sort of thing happens in supermarkets and malls, but never libraries. Of course, giant robots never target libraries either, yet one had yesterday. This Judecca was a weird, weird world. Funny how I could think that as it crumbled around me...

"I need Wormmon," I muttered as I followed Raistlin to the parking lot. "I'm talking to myself."

"Oh, you did that even with him around," Raistlin replied like I'd been talking to him. "Now be quiet! I think I know what has transpired...Ah! There." He stared up into the sky with a satisfied expression on his face. I squinted but couldn't see anything. Well, maybe the silhouette of a bird, but...

Suddenly the silhouette was growing and expanding until it took the shape of a man with black wings crashing to the ground, a purse clenched tightly in his hand. "Dastards," he swore at us as we approached him, his beady eyes narrowed on either side of his aquiline nose, his dark blue hair mussed. "What spell was that, and how did you...?"

"I suspected as much, Naesala." Raistlin pried the purse free, handed it to me. "Take that back to the woman, Ken. Now. While I have you at my disposal, King Kilvas, I have a little job for you. I assure you it pays well..."

"It better," the man replied as I hurried off, the pilfered item clenched tightly in my hands. I wanted to stay around and find out what Raistlin and the winged man were discussing...but common sense said otherwise. The man had not looked friendly—in fact, he'd reminded me a bit of Raistlin's old apprentice Dalamar. Something about the lazy, liquid arrogance of the face...of the bearing, even in an uncomfortable situation...how had Dalamar known he had the magic? How would I? Raistlin, Raistlin probably had been born knowing.

"I better have it," I told myself, suddenly very homesick and wanting Wormmon more than ever, though I was glad he was home safe in Tokyo (at least I hoped he was). "If I don't, I don't know what I'll do."

o0o0o0o0o0

The woman left with her purse and Raistlin returned a few minutes later, sitting not in his usual desk in the back offices but instead at Yamaki's reference post. Faint sounds coming from the filing cabinet told me Cupimon was asleep within, and a stray rose petal caught under the leg of Raistlin's swivel chair told me why. But what I didn't know was...

"Where's Yamaki?" I asked, dropping off some papers of Soren's. He was already halfway through his book on wizardry, and I had to keep looking terms up in a Dictionary of the Arcane.

Raistlin seemed fascinated by whatever was on his computer screen. "I sent him away," he replied absently. "He's running an errand for me."

"Spell components?" I asked, impatient to know whether or not my newfound hopes were in vain.

Raistlin snorted. "Trust that buffoon with things of that nature? Hardly. No, I sent him to meet a friend. One whom...we all owe...a great deal." His tone implied the conversation was over, so I left the papers on his desk and went back to my work. Kaizer...Soren...the strange attack yesterday...the bird-man and the inn today...and now Yamaki visiting someone Raistlin felt indebted to? What was this Judecca, anyway?

"Where do you think we are, Soren?" I asked him, picking up my pen and watching Soren dip his quill. To each their own, I guess.

"I don't know and I don't care. I'm staying long enough to get Ike out, and that's it," he said, but I caught a glimpse of parchment beneath his spellbook. A map? Of what?

"You're confused and lost too, aren't you?" I asked softly. "You aren't as resolved as you sound. You--" I stopped as he looked up, my face flushing red. Idiot! I told myself. How could you? How dare you?

"Are you looking for some sort of confession of friendship?" Soren asked. "Because you won't get one. I don't like you, and I don't like Raistlin. I don't even like Lyon all that much, and he's the most decent one in your entire crew. But I'll give you this. I like the way you operate. Not Raistlin, you. No fancy subtleties, no tricks, no evil genius mastermind who thinks he has to run the show. You're hotheaded and you're impulsive and you take everything personally...but you're shy at the same time and not about to sink to the level of hiding it behind a mask. You're real, Ken. And I don't think you know that. Now stop bothering me." He bent his head over his work, and I could hear his quill tip snap as he pressed it down. "Damn."

He wasn't completely right about me, I mused. I'd worn a mask for most of my life, real or imaginary. Heck, be honest: I'd worn one earlier that day. But for him to miss that...had I really improved?

"I've never been Ken. But I'm going to live the rest of my life as the kind and gentle person Wormmon wanted me to be!"

That was a promise I'd made long ago, a promise I wasn't sure I was keeping. I wasn't feeling kind or gentle at the moment. I wanted to destroy someone, even if that someone did happen to be an aspect of myself.

"Find your place in the world." Was that what Raistlin had said? Some version of that. He and Wormmon wanted the same thing from me...yet one was my master, the other my self-decided inferior (though I thought of us as equals). And wasn't that what I wanted, too?

What _did_ I want?

Vengeance. Acceptance. Wisdom. Perfection. Second chances. Finality. Freedom.

I couldn't have them all!

"I wish I were you, Yamaki," I sighed as I bent over my dictionary. "I at least know how to repay a debt."

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

a/n: Oh look, another long one. Sorry Ken was so emo; he's interesting to work with, since he's an angry emo and not a mopy emo. Lyon...Lyon's a toddler emo.

Wait, what?

Coming up next: We finally find out where Yamaki's off to...but that might not be posted for a while. When next you hear from me, I'll be at college.

So I'll see you all there!


	11. Canto XI: Yamaki

Here's a nice short Canto to give you all a break...seriously, this is all I needed to get done in this one. I like it, despite its shorter length and lack of, um, apparent content. It's fun to show everybody putting pieces together bit by bit.

Anyone who figures out what the chapel pictures mean before I say in a canto (and that won't be for a loong time) wins a prize. Prize depends on the winner(s). And reading reviews I later say are right doesn't count!

I don't know how in character Yamaki is...he's tricky to pin down at times...I would have liked to have done more with the less logical, more willing to believe wild stories side of him. The side that names stuff "Grani" and delivers awesome speeches like the one he gives Mr. Matsuki...but alas, twas not to be. That being said, I own neither Yamaki nor anyone he interacts with this Canto.

**Judecca, Canto XI: Yamaki**

Unlike certain individuals I could mention, I believe in keeping an account of events as free from human emotion as possible. Thus I will relate nothing of what churned in my head as I walked the dark streets of Judecca on a fool's errand for the man who called himself Raistlin Majere. The tinted lenses of my eyewear made the going a bit rough, as the sun was setting, but I had a map and presence of mind, and so arrived at my destination without much difficulty. It was situated on a corner, with only a small iron sign proclaiming its name. "Chapel Cocytus." Of what religion was anyone's guess, as the stone exterior was elegant yet unmarked by religious iconry, and I didn't really care either. I was just supposed to meet someone inside, pick something up for Raistlin, and leave. Why_ I _had to be the messenger boy and not one of the two young fools he had wrapped around his prying fingers...I didn't really want to think about it.

My cigarette crumbled beneath my fingers, and I snuffed what was left of it on the chapel's railing. I shouldn't have started smoking again; I should have just left well enough alone and stuck to merely flicking the lighter. I didn't care about that either. Nothing in this world interested me, except getting out. Raistlin obviously didn't understand that, unlike His Supreme Highness, others had lives to attend to, jobs that would fall apart without them. Hypnos would no doubt be a mess...a mess that the Chief Cabinet Secretary would be forced to blame on me. For my inattention. And I had no valid excuse, nothing I could say that they wouldn't lock me in a mental institution for. So I'd shoulder the blame and carry on like I always did...but first I had to get back.

"You'll pay someday, Raistlin Majere," I muttered, and tossing the spent cigarette away pushed the door open and entered.

My first impression was that they needed to get the walls repainted: a cacophony of color blazed at me from the six walls I could see as I walked in. Then, as the individual frescoes came into focus, it became clear that on each wall was painted a different scenario. From my left to my right, I observed first a map of some alien country with a stern-looking man's face above it; a black monster crowned with three shining jewels, burning in torment; three robed figures—one in white, one in black, and one in red; a collage of different faces with the most prominent being a boy with glasses and what I could have sworn was a Digimon; Lucemon, holding the world in his hands; and a duo of heads (a man with brown hair and the boy who'd hurt Ken) with a third being sketched in faintly. I squinted: the face was Raistlin's.

Any religious order who put Raistlin Majere on their walls was no friend of mine. I turned to go—and stopped dead in my tracks. Painted above the door, plain as the lapel pin on my blazer, was the Hypnos logo, circled by the four Sovereigns of the digital world.

"Why--" I started, staring up at the wall; my hands were clenched into fists, and as I squeezed my lighter I heard something crack and the top clattered to the floor. Shoot. Of course I had to break a hinge in a huge place like this—with a grey floor, no less. Sighing, I looked down, and had almost resigned myself to surrendering dignity and crawling around on my hands and knees when a clear, young female voice behind me asked, "What are you doing?"

Somehow a girl had snuck into the chapel and climbed up onto the blank white altar in the center without my noticing her. She wasn't really young, either—about Ken's age, maybe a little older, dressed only in a white slip. Her almond brown eyes bored into my lenses as she waited for a reply.

"Hold on, kid," I snapped, not thinking in my frustration. "I've got a screw loose...I mean, it fell out of my lighter." Just about as far from professional as it's possible to get. Riley was going to laugh. No, wait. She didn't need to know.

"Is this it?" She climbed down, walked up to me, and held up the screw in one small pale hand. Snatching it from her, I frowned. "Isn't it a little late for children to be running around barefoot? Where are your parents, girl?"

"Oh, they don't mind. And I have something for you."

"You're Raistlin's contact?" Did the man have an unnatural preoccupation with waifs or something? I contemplated calling the authorities, but decided the last thing I needed was for Raistlin to set a police car on fire or whatever it was his so-called "magic" did.

"I am Lain. And you are Mitsuo."

"Mr. Yamaki to you, kid," I snapped, angry not only at her gall but also that Raistlin had distributed my name to his freakish cult of coworkers. "Now what have you got?"

She held out her hand again; this time it contained a computer chip and a small rectangular package. "What's in the box?" I asked, taking both objects carefully and slipping them in my pocket.

"Modify cards."

"For who?"

"You. To help you connect better."

"The last thing I want on this earth is a connection to that despotic winged freak. No modification, no communication, and definitely no digivolution. My line of work is supposed to prevent monsters like him from threatening humanity. Now, goodbye." I turned to leave but was thwarted when the doors slammed and locked in my face. Whirling, I caught a glimpse of a fey smile fading from Lain's face.

"I don't think we're friends yet," she said. "Raistlin promised friends."

"Oh, he did, did he? You seem chummy enough with him. Isn't that sufficient without dragging me in too?" I asked sarcastically. What, was she another of his apprentices? Did the man have a contact behind every corner? Maybe that was his "magic": just a very highly developed support network. It wasn't Kaizer who had this town in his pocket. It was Raistlin Majere.

"You're right." Lain sat on the altar, dangled her bare legs off the edge and wiggled her toes. "And you're wrong. But that's all I can say. I'm sorry. How did it feel?"

"What, having my mind read? Violated. Now let me out before I--"

"Don't reach for your cell phone. It won't work here. Nothing works in Chapel Cocytus. Nothing but the power of God. Do you see any lights?"

She was right. There were no chandeliers or wall-mounted units or even torches, yet the room was lit. Fighting a shiver, I turned to her. "What are you trying to say?"

"How did it feel? The digivolution. Think back. What did it feel like?"

"Why would you know about--" But I was cut off as the world blurred around me and suddenly maniacal laughter was ringing in my ears. I was inside the Judecca Public Library again, a madman in an overgrown child's toy was ripping the neighborhood apart, and the tiny white creature I was stuck with for a partner was tearing into my ideas with equal ferocity. "Take me back!" I screamed to whatever had dropped me here. "I'm not feeling it again!" Except my throat was locked shut, my mind a prisoner in a scene that had already happened. Furious, I could only fume in silence as Cupimon finished his speech, sniffling in a way I desperately wanted to believe was fake, and listened to myself speak.

"No. We're staying right here." I didn't want to reach in my pocket, bring out that object, but I did anyway. Throwing myself against the walls of the prison, I heard my bravado thrown at the world again, activating a cycle I now wanted to prevent...

And then, the draining. It was like all the energy in my body was streaming from my chest and my feet and my head, down my arms and out through the device in my hand. The rush should have been painful, but instead exhilarated me, left me empty but totally content for some reason. And then, for one brief second...

The mind of the being I was surrendering all my power to touched me, melded at the point of contact. And deep within the tyrant's heart, I felt...nothing new. Everything within Lucemon's soul was familiar and comfortable. Our minds were the same.

The world whirled again, and I was back in the haphazard chapel with the dark-haired girl staring solemnly at me. Something pricked my palm, and I realized I had reached in my pocket for the broken lighter but drawn out the digivice instead. Dropping it on the floor, I tried to ground it beneath my heel. It slipped out and skittered to where Lain sat; descending from the altar, she picked the thing up and handed it back to me. "You liked the connection."

Pulling out my lighter, thinking to try and put the screw back in, I discovered it to be whole and untarnished. "Who are you?" I demanded, grabbing her by the white shift she wore. "What do you want?"

"Technology," said Lain. "Technology connects everything. You use technology to monitor the globe. You keep it safe with technology. Use Psyche to keep Judecca safe. It's why you're here. And don't fear the connection."

"I don't want any connection to that beast," I growled. "I've made my mistakes and others have paid. That should be enough, if you want me to torment myself. Besides, Hypnos has proven its use. I'm nothing like...like _him_."

"That's not what you felt. Lying is such an ugly human act. Technology cannot lie."

"And neither can you?" I asked scornfully, shaking her; she smiled.

"I am Lain. Can I lie?" Then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she vanished, leaving me clutching nothing but air. Shaking, I sat down on the altar, took off my sunglasses and ran my fingers through my hair. What had all that...hallucination? Raistlin's magic?

But the cards and the chip were real, I reminded myself. Connection. Technology...

I emptied my pockets, stared at the collection of objects before me. Lighter, once broken and miraculously repaired. Modify cards. Digivice. Computer chip.

"Psyche," I mused, picking up the chip. _Use Psyche to keep Judecca safe. _Was this Psyche? Could I really use this thing for something useful? _Technology doesn't lie_. At least, it would show me something other than what Raistlin Majere had already. But she had been his messenger.

"I'll use it for my own purposes, not his, though," I decided, redepositing the motley collection whence it came. I'd figure him out using his own technology. Because technology didn't lie.

And neither, I realized as I stared at the Hypnos logo above the now-open chapel doors, could Lain.

O0o0o0o0o0

a/n: And so ends the first of hopefully-weekly installments of "Judecca"; I picked Tuesday because a) my "Problem of Evil" class (assuming I don't get lotteried out) meets on Tuesdays and b) my Fantasy/Creative Writing Guild used to meet on Tuesdays, so...this is for you, guys.

Coming up next: Another long chapter, another Ken chapter (gah—bad planning on my part). We find out what Raistlin wanted from Naesala and even more characters join the party. But not from any new sources...and some are reappearances...apprentices and twins galore in the next canto of "Judecca"! What more could you desire?


	12. Canto XII: Ken

Wow, a Ken canto with, like, nooo interior monologue. Must be because this is mainly an expository episode, ne? Poor Ken, though, has had his share of philosophical musings. It's time the boy gets to do something besides whine and get hurt and have guilt. But Lyon, now: Lyon is very selfish in this chapter, something that rarely happens. I will admit that that seems OOC. But put yourself in his shoes, with his reservations, and you might see why I don't think he'd give his all.

This canto is admittedly a bit choppy, as well; I'm working with a major time restriction tonight but wanted to get it up anyway. My apologies. Next week should be better, though.

**Judecca, Canto XII: Ken**

"Apprentice, come here." With some shock I realized that Raistlin was speaking to me, and immediately hurried to his side. Had he changed his mind about me in just one night? He'd certainly had time to do so; I'd heard him from my bed, coughing and hacking in his room as I tossed and turned. From the circles under Lyon's eyes as I passed him on the stairs, I hadn't been the only one kept awake, either.

"Yes, Raistlin?" I asked, arriving in his study and wondering if I should call him "master." He'd seemed to like it when Soren had...but I chafed at the bit of forming that word in my mouth. I'd forced the being dearest to me to refer to me that way for far too long, and had sworn never to call or be called that again.

Raistlin looked up from the book he was studying, one of the texts we'd borrowed from Yuka. "Inform Soren that we shall not be working at the library today. I have placed Lyon in charge of that task for the time being. Also, warn Feanor that he will have to contribute more today; Yamaki shall be quite busy, I think."

That was it? But...what were Soren and I doing, then? "Um, yes, sir," I replied, bowing and quickly exiting. _One thing at a time, Ken. He doesn't know what you can do yet, and neither do you. It's only right that you play messenger for now. _

"Feanor?" Timidly I knocked on the door to the room he and Cupimon shared; the monster was already in the kitchen, trying to "help" Riley make waffles but mostly just getting batter everywhere. A string of Elvish curses greeted my summons, but I nudged the door open anyway. The dark-haired elf glared at me from where he lay in a tangle of bedsheets; one hand groped for the hilt of his sword on the ground, which was littered with...tissues?

"Have you been crying?" I asked, concerned, noticing redness around his grey eyes. Growling in reply, he rose from the bed, smoothing his mussed black hair and braiding it behind his back. Though he made no formal answer, I had a pretty good guess as to what was going on. He missed Maedhros. My heart went out to him in sympathy; I too knew what it was like to not truly appreciate someone until they were lost to you. But judging by the dark looks he was giving me, the last thing he wanted to do was share his sorrows with someone who felt the same. I would pay dearly for stumbling upon this moment of weakness. Best just to give my message and be gone, then.

"Um, you don't have to get up yet if you don't want to...but Raistlin said to let you know that..."

"Do not mention that name in my presence." His voice rose sharply from a hiss to a command. "His presumptuousness shall cost him severely enough without my having to strike you down as well for being snared in his webs of deceit. None may order Feanor son of Finwe where they will. Now leave me! I have much to ponder."

Translation: I hate that man and will shoot the messenger if I must to get my point across, but right now all I want is to be alone with my self-pity. Clear enough. I shut the door quietly, murmuring an apology, and sighed. Some apprentice I was turning out to be. Hopefully whatever we were doing today might make up for...

"HOLY CRAP! Did you SEE the SIZE of that thing?"

Now what had gotten Cupimon so worked up? This day had only started, and already it was giving me a headache. Wearily I dragged myself downstairs to see what new disasters lay in store.

Perhaps I was adjusting to life in Judecca too quickly. A giant raven sat on the back deck, a package held tightly in one clawed foot, and I didn't even blink—which is more than can be said for Cupimon, who from the looks of him and his surrounding area had fallen into the waffle batter. Raistlin, perfectly calm, was signing a clipboard and attaching a purse to the top, then handed it back to the raven. "Paid in full, King Kilvas. Take care your Master does not catch you at this activity."

"Beorc filth," snarled the raven around its beak, exchanging the clipboard for the wrapped object with some awkwardness—he seemed reluctant to cross our threshold. "I'll bet your gold is counterfeit."

"Ah, but then our deal would be void," Raistlin replied, left eyebrow arched. "And gold is so unreliable. I paid in steel."

The raven snapped his beak in spite, then huffily lifted himself off, shedding blue-black feathers all over the deck. Raistlin watched him vanish into the distance with a wry smile, then turned around and departed for his study, package clutched tightly to himself.

"What did _he_ want?" Soren asked, coming up from behind me and picking up a black feather. "The greedy traitor."

"You know him?"

"He sold out his best friend when I first met him. Then he sold out _Ike_." Soren crushed the feather in his fist, let it drift limply to the ground. "He'd do anything for the right price."

"Doesn't everyone?" Raistlin was back already, and shoving heavy cloaks into our hands. "Now come, apprentices. We have much to do while the day is still young."

"I won't go." Soren dropped his cloak on top of the crumpled feather, stalked over to the mess Cupimon had created and helped Riley begin to clean it up. "You're my teacher, not my lord."

"And here I selected you for your loyalty...very well. Ken, fetch Lyon. We shall need more than one pair of eyes for our task today."

"Which is what, sir?" I asked, slinging on the heavy dark-red cloak and picking up the black one Soren had dropped.

Raistlin smiled and produced from a pocket the object given him by the raven, stroked it lovingly. "Reconnaissance."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"So...what is it?"

We stood in a clearing within the forest surrounding Judecca, Lyon and I on either side of Raistlin as he held aloft what looked like a smoky greenish marble. "An ancient artifact, created at a terrible cost," he replied in his whispering voice. "A magnet or a repellant, depending on one's will. The only reliable tool for calling upon..." His voice dropped. "Dragons."

Lyon gave a little, very un-necromanterish shudder. "D-dragons? Um, I've hurt dragons in the past, and don't know if I want to be seen by..."

"Do you think I would be so foolish as to call a stranger dragon to my side? No, I have an associate, who like you has slipped from the realms of the breathing and wearies of the later planes of life. I should think he will find this diverting...Now, apprentice, watch carefully. Mastering a dragon orb, and through it a dragon, is a test of will before all other functions. Either you control...or you are controlled. And my associate has controlled better men than you before."

How's that for a self-esteem booster? But I hadn't agreed to follow Raistlin for his charming personality and people skills. I liked him—I needed him—for his power. And of that he could not be doubted. So I stepped back, eyes wide, and watched as the orb grew in Raistlin's hands until he needed to hold it with both, stared into it with him as he began his incantation.

"_Ast bilak miopalaran/ Suh akvlar tantangusar!"_

The mists swirled, and with them my vision; I could almost see wings beating within the green smoke, coming closer, defining themselves...

"_Ast bilak miopalaran/ Suh akvlar tantangusar!"_

Smoky hands issued from the orb, grappled with Raistlin; sweat beaded like diamonds on his golden skin, but he remained calm, forceful. Commanding. Everything I could never be.

"_Ast bilak miopalaran/ Suh akvlar tantangusar!"_

It was the hands' turn to waver. Raistlin's voice rose like the crashing of the sea. Lyon yelled and pointed; something was slowly descending from the heavy blanket of clouds above the trees. Then, just as suddenly, Raistlin's voice wavered: he'd been holding back a cough but could do so no longer.

"_Ast bilak miopalaran/ Suh akvlar--"_

The dragon faltered, intelligent bilious eyes surveying us hungrily.

"--_tantangusar!" _I finished, slapping my hands next to Raistlin's on the orb and staring into it with all my might. Through the orb's pulsing surface, I could feel the dragon's mind probing, testing the fool who had come between it and its summoner. _Not Raistlin, _I told it, forcing all my anger at Kaizer and myself into the words; the dragon's mental claws raked my brain, seeking the source of the rage. I let him have it. Kaizer—Wormmon—Sam—everyone I'd hurt—how much I'd hurt _myself—You won't take Raistlin! This is what I have to atone for! And I am not dying, am not giving up, until all this pain has been burnt away! This is what I am, what I have become. I am a controller, not a pawn. And I will not be stopped by the likes of you!_

It may have been my imagination, but as it gave in I thought I felt the dragon smile.

o0o0o0o0o0o

"Are we looking for anything in particular?" Lyon called over the howling wind; the dragon harrumphed, and Raistlin looked like he wanted to echo the sound. The more timid mage had been on his guard ever since the dragon's appearance and showed no signs of relaxing. I couldn't blame him, but my worries were a bit more pathetic. Rather than fretting over the obedience of our transport, I was certain I was going to fall off. Between the spikes natural to the dragon's back, Raistlin, and Lyon, there wasn't much room left for me.

As it was, I sat between the two men, huddled in my cloak and glad Raistlin had thought to supply me with it: it was cold high above the treetops, despite the heat from the still-too-warm Judecca sun. Raistlin had thought of everything...except me. He hadn't reckoned on me. Had I destroyed his plans or played right into them?

"Not especially," Raistlin replied, remarkably coherent despite his inability to raise his voice in normal speech. "Though I should think the sight of us would draw any ill-wishers closer, so be on your guard."

How could I have been so stupid? He wanted us to be attacked. It was that simple. Suddenly I saw his plan, clear as the calculus problems on my still-unfinished papers at home: He was testing us again. Set us up as bait. And the dragon...

"Where'd you get this orb?" I asked, innocently enough, I thought. "How did you know it would be here?"

Raistlin looked back at me. "...From Kaizer," he replied. "But it was originally mine. I won it long ago." How long had he been fighting Kaizer, then? How long had this...menace with my face been terrorizing this world? I opened my mouth to ask, but was cut off when Lyon gave a shout, and bright light flashed behind me: he'd cast a spell.

Craning my neck, I saw what had alarmed him: a trio of giant ravens, black wings beating straight for us, had come up behind the dragon and screeched a challenge. Two of the birds had riders: Maedhros and the black-haired woman who had helped Raistlin get home when he'd been...sick. The bird leading the small group, however, was riderless, and I recognized the gleam in its eye and the necklace around its neck: this was the one who'd dropped off the orb. Apparently Kaizer had found out and now sought to ensure his servant's loyalty. I was surprised at the mercy. The Digimon Emperor would have simply killed the thing...

Raistlin cursed as Maedhros drew his sword, and again as it burst into flame. The trio charged us, and the dragon dipped to meet the challenge. I grabbed onto a spine and screwed my eyes shut.

"Cyan, no!" I heard Raistlin command. "I'll handle this myself. I want them alive!"

"RAISTLIN!" Lyon screamed; I felt black velvet brush my cheek as Raistlin's soft voice shouted "_Pfeatherfall!"_ Opening one eye a crack, I saw the lead bird balk as the mage landed squarely on his back, grabbed the beaded necklace hanging there, and attempted to steer. "My apologies, King Kilvas. I am every bit as mortified but—this—must—stop!"

"Raistlin! Please! Come with us!" the woman pleaded. "Us"? She was on...Kaizer's side? But she'd helped Raistlin before!

"Uh, Ken?" Lyon asked as I watched the scene: now completely ignoring the dragon, the two ravens sought to rid their leader of his unexpected burden. "Who's controlling the dragon?"

The orb was right where Raistlin had left it, somehow staying perfectly balanced on the dragon's neck. "You're the mage!" I called back, but Lyon shook his head. His face was white and his eyes sunken as he stared at it.

"I can't...I can't...not after the Dark Stone...Ken, I'm not strong enough..."

"You're going to have to be!" I snapped at him as the dragon, testing its limits, began to whip its long neck around, seeking to toss us off. "I've never had training!"

"But you finished the spell," protested Lyon, grabbing a spine and holding on tight. "And you're closer. If I tried to reach it, I'd fall off."

"I can't," I started, but the dragon snorted again and I thought I saw amusement in those vicious eyes. Well. So be it, then. Carefully inching my way to where Raistlin had sat seconds earlier, I placed both hands on the orb and braced myself for the worst. The magic words, though I remembered them, were alien and heavy on my tongue as I spoke. I tried to clear my mind, but all I could think was _Help me! Someone help me!_

And to my surprise, somebody answered.

O0o0o0o0o0o

_Cyan Bloodbane?_ the dark elf's voice in my head asked. _Raistlin summoned Cyan Bloodbane from beyond the grave? How very like him._ He grew droll, or as droll as Dalamar could be. _And then he set you up, to test you. Though I am shocked at his choice of apprentices._

"He didn't ask for me," I told my ex-interviewee wearily. This had all been too easy. There was no way I had mastered this artifact so completely that a frantic wish could summon the voice of Raistlin's old apprentice to my head. Something was rotten in the state of Judecca, and I was determined to find out what...assuming I lived to the end of the day. "And I still need help." The dragon had changed tactics: rather than attempting to throw us off, he engaged in open battle with the ravens, trying to get Raistlin back but bound to the man's command to keep our opponents alive. Apparently Cyan Bloodbane wasn't used to such a restriction and as a result performed abysmally: he couldn't hit a single bird. Lyon had shot off a few more blasts of dark magic, but I noticed he was refraining from his trademark sea of phantoms. He was letting his fear cripple him. And we couldn't have that. We needed him...

Since when had this war become a matter of "we"?

_You aren't listening to me!_ Dalamar hissed, and I redirected my attention to the orb in my hands. _Order the dragon to land with your thoughts._ _Then_ _we can discuss this situation further. I must say, your predicament is...unique. I would not have expected this of him...but he has always delighted in doing the unexpected. I wonder especially about your ability to contact me, as he did when back in time with that very artifact...an artifact which was by all accounts destroyed by his own hands. _

"Ken?" Lyon asked shakily. "Look behind Maedhros. Is that what I think it is?"

I looked. "Oh dear. Cyan, take us down to that raven. Can you catch that raven?" _Catch that raven. Catch that raven._ So that was why Raistlin needed to get close...

_What? What now?_

"Our enemies have a prisoner."

_Perfect. You're lucky I haven't anything better to do today, boy...and that I've waited a long time for a chance like this. _Dalamar's smug tone told me the elf, wherever he was, was grinning from ear to pointed ear. _Finally, a chance to be the one operating in secrecy...the one who'll end up on top._

I could see where that train of thought was heading. My stomach sank. This situation was complicated enough already! "So you want me to help you figure out what Raistlin's up to."

_Oh, I wouldn't put it that way. It's a fair trade: I'll aid you in your magical studies, and you...well, together we'll prove just exactly how well Raistlin Majere's apprentices can operate. Perhaps even that they've outstripped their master...First, let's save that blasted prisoner. Then we can talk._

O0o0o0o0o0o

Ground. I liked ground. I never wanted to leave it again.

"Keep that," Raistlin told me, handing me a drawstring bag containing the dragon orb. Cyan had departed for parts unknown. His job, at least for today, was done: the prisoner had been captured (by Raistlin; Cyan mostly just got in the way) and the ravens sped off to their keep, or wherever Kaizer was housing them. Which left me with a connection to Dalamar, Lyon with shame for being utterly useless when he could have solved the situation all by himself, and Raistlin with a babbling prisoner.

"They took them," the boy kept saying. "I have to get them back. You don't know what they'll do with them!"

"Oh, I know exactly what they'll do," Raistlin said crossly. "Kaizer will lock them in his chest with the rest of his little prizes and dream of the day he can unlock their powers, but for now he'll let that power lie wasted behind walls of fire. We're safe, but you'll never see those Spirits again."

"You don't understand," the boy argued. "I need them!" Tears welled up in his blue eyes; he wiped his nose on his red sleeve and continued. "Please, you must help me get my Spirits back. Koji's coming for me, and if he finds out I lost them...when they've caused so much trouble already...he'll hate me." Looking sheepishly downward, the boy with his shaggy head of blue hair suddenly reminded me of myself. Lost, hopeless, ashamed, fearing...

I put my hand on his shoulder and met Raistlin's eyes. "We're getting them back," I told him. "What Kaizer stole. We're breaking in and we're getting those Spirits or whatever back."

The boy's head lifted in hope; Lyon's swiveled in astonishment; Raistlin's tilted back in mocking laughter. "And how do you plan on achieving that goal?" he asked.

"I don't care if we burn his headquarters down. I don't care if we jump through windows. But I'm tired of Kaizer walking all over this town—and you, too." Maybe my discussion with Dalamar had made me too rebellious for my own good, but I had to remember my priorities, too. And I had a dragon now. How could Kaizer stand up to that? "If you know everything about him before it happens, like you seem to, why haven't you defeated him already? Why do you even care?"

"You wouldn't understand. You don't need to." Considering the discussion closed, Raistlin turned away.

"Why does Kaizer have my face?" I screamed at his retreating back as he exited the clearing. "Who is he? Why are you fighting him? What's your stake in all this?"

Raistlin glanced back. "What's yours?"

I seethed. "I think you know," I growled. "I know you know."

"Precisely. It is for that reason I took you on as an apprentice. Why did you offer yourself to me? Because you knew I would use what little help you could offer. You sensed my stakes here were high. And they are—higher than you will ever know. Too high to risk my life on a suicide mission for a tagalong!"

"You rescued him," I challenged. "You took on his problems."

The boy stepped between us. "Please don't fight because of me--"

"They aren't." It was Lyon's turn to console. Raistlin glared at him.

"Now you speak up. I brought you along because I thought you might be useful!"

The fact that I was harboring the same resentment against Lyon didn't matter. Raistlin wasn't getting off the hook by criticizing someone else. Not on my watch. "Let's just take him home and talk about it," I said as evenly as I could. "See what the others think. But I'm going in—alone, if need be."

"Oh, you won't be alone," Raistlin replied haughtily as we all started down the road. "I think one individual in particular will be most eager to aid you in your...revenge."

"Who?" I nearly asked, fearing he knew about Dalamar but catching myself in time. Raistlin meant an elf, all right. But it wasn't the elf I was thinking of. It was an elf, thrown just as involuntarily into his path, who was too proud to admit he hurt but too hurt to pretend nothing had happened. An elf who was just insane enough to help my admittedly insane idea. An elf who cried in his room only when he thought no one would hear

"Feanor and me," I marveled, kicking at a stone in the road. "That ought to be fun."

o0o0o0o0o0o

a/n: I think I'm gonna end it there tonight, folks...if only because I've, um, run out of time. I seriously stuck my laptop in my bag and took it to class with me so I could work on this before the class started...lame. So everything I wanted to include in this, I'll put with the next canto involving these guys.

That won't be the next one, however. For the first time, we bring you...ROGER! Yeah, that's right. Roger and Nataku in a singles bar...and Nataku meets a girl...and then Lyon shows up...it's gonna be fun.

I promise better quality next time. I'm ashamed, so good night.


	13. Canto XIII: Roger

I lurv Nataku. Lurv lurv lurv. He makes even Roger chapters fun...but Roger himself was quite an interesting guy to write. Let me know how I did...this is, by the way, the chapter in which the subplot I've been promising to people appears. Now things really start getting fun. And I don't own any of it!

**Judecca, Canto XIII: Roger**

I had run out of Dark Rings but not out of wine. All in all, not too depressing a tradeoff.

The bar, thankfully, had grown much quieter since I'd begun making my rounds, meeting, greeting, and subsequently enslaving the citizens of Judecca lonely enough to attend a singles bar called the "Human Instrumentality Project." You had to be roaring drunk to appreciate a name of that presumptuous nature. And the proprietor..._never mind the proprietor,_ I kept telling myself. _You'll deal with him later. Just focus on these fools, idiots gullible enough to accept gifts from strangers. _But it was hard to ignore or disregard the man when his eyes were sizzling holes through his sunglasses and burning onto my back. Even harder when the person who was supposed to be helping me had instead sat for the past forty-five minutes talking to the head waitress.

"Hello. I am called Nataku. What is your name?"

"Rei. Rei Ayanami."

"I think that name sounds very nice. What sort of things do you like to do for fun?"

"Fun? I do not know what you mean by 'fun.'"

And so on and so forth. Two peas in a pod, each more clueless than the next. Really, they even looked alike; if the girl's eyes had been gold and not that odious shade of red, they might have been siblings. It hurt my brain just to listen to them, and so I tried not to. But if I focused elsewhere, now that the Rings were gone, even less pleasant thoughts drifted into my head. I took a swig of the wine. Bitter. Disgusting. But it would hopefully wash all those thoughts away.

"_Sir...I am a cleric!"_

Bloody obvious, that. If she hadn't been, I wouldn't have chased after her. No, the thrill of the forbidden wasn't what had led me to pursue her. It was the thought that once—long ago—she had belonged to another man...

"_Raistlin Majere?" I said, smirking. "You saw Raistlin Majere? And you say he's sick?"_

"_Don't be so pleased!" she cried, on the verge of tears. Rather than smudging her face and marring it the way most women look when they cry, her pain instead accentuated the pale strength in her face, in her opalesque cloudy eyes. "You don't know him. You weren't there to see what he became. It was...it was...and then he..." She bit her lip, pressed her hand against it in a nervous gesture. As her cheeks flushed, I knew what had happened. Women all acted the same under stress. Weaklings._

"_He kissed you, didn't he?" I tried to sound sympathetic when really my pulse was beating a frantic tempo just below my brow. On the one hand...his nerve never ceased to amaze me. On the other...why should he get even such beauty as this? He had everything else already. I hadn't been with a woman since joining the Group and he got to run into his old girlfriend. The news that he was ill tantalized me, to be sure, but I would deal with that with my own time in my laboratory. Revenge at last would be sweet...revenge sealed with the kisses of the woman Majere loved would be even sweeter. As she blushed even deeper, dusky rose blooming on those marble features, I tried to take her in my arms, to console her, to let her know that not all men were revolting pigs and I at least had class. That was when she had pushed me away and fed me the old tried-and-true line about clerical virginity. Surely she'd been with her order long enough to know that was more of a guideline anyway..._

So here I was, avoiding a cleric scorned, doing the dirty work of a man I was merely using for my own ends. The blasted collar he'd forced me to wear itched something awful; nonchalantly I lifted my hand and scratched, a barely noticeable gesture. Years in court had taught me subtlety. Years of being thwarted by inferiors had taught me impatience.

"...and he would not give me the sacred sword. So I took it. He tried to stop me and I had to kill him. I put my hand right through his chest. But that is what Dragons of Earth are supposed to do, even if I learned later on that it was a bad thing. I would like to apologize to him now. The lady from the Dragons of Heaven helped me see that. And now for some reason I am fighting again. For Kaizer. I am Pawn. Do you fight too?"

"I pilot. I'm an Eva pilot."

"What is an Eva pilot?"

"..."

Would they just shut up already? He wasn't even using the right lines and she was soaking up every word he said! It figured that I would get shot down and the genderless freak of science would end up with a girl...even a skinny little twig like her. Gesturing for the proprietor to come over, I held up my wineglass for him to refill.

"Your waitress is rather distracted," I informed him. "Do you usually allow fraternization? This is a singles bar. Who knows what my companion has on his mind?"

The man just looked at me over the rims of his glasses. "Rei does what I tell her to," he said, then retreated back to his corner in the shadows where he sat, gloved hands folded and resting against his chin. He was still staring at me. Surely he had to have noticed that aside from us and the pair of contraction-deficient oddballs, everyone else in the room was behaving rather mechanically. Kaizer put most of his Rings on "autopilot": go through the motions of everyday life but be ready should he need help. Really, I could sympathize with Kaizer's cause. I just thought his methods were a little backwards. Who did the people of Judecca openly acknowledge as the head of their government? Cut him down and take his place, then clean up the rebels in secret from there. Much more cost-efficient. I could teach him a thing or two if I wanted...

...but that wasn't what I was here for. My sole purpose in coming to Judecca was to find Majere and prove to him that his victory over me had been a fluke. I allowed no one to defeat me, especially not those who obviously didn't deserve their win. That bitch from Trebond had been the only one to get away with it thus far, and that was one more name on the list than I wanted. I wasn't about to double its length by adding Majere. He had to die, and die soon...but not too quickly once I had him. Slowly...painfully...agonizingly...so he would come to understand exactly how badly he had underestimated my skill. No cheap tricks from him this time. Or ever again.

Which brought me back to the knowledge that he was sick. Probably mentally, if the cleric assumed his sickness had caused him to kiss her. It didn't surprise me that Majere needed his brain to be scrambled before he could approach a woman. He hadn't seemed the wooing kind. But that was making me think of the cleric again...and the idiot I'd brought along. Why had he even come? Because Kaizer had asked him to. Kaizer always sent people out in pairs if not trios. This morning he'd had the cleric, the elf, and Naesala—the only inhabitant of the tower worth talking to, in my opinion—go out flying. I'd left before their return, desperate from boredom. Revenge was a sticky business, and one in which creativity was an asset for the full effect. So why couldn't I think of a properly fitting attack?

"Excuse me. Pardon me. I'm sorry. Excuse me."

Oh, lovely. Someone new. And here I was without any Rings on me, so the man wouldn't even prove to be diverting as I tricked him into trying one on. He looked like easy prey, too: flustered and out-of-place, clothing every bit as antiquated as mine. His hair was a noxious shade of periwinkle. And he was somehow familiar...he made me think of sand...

Of course! He was the sorcerer from the battle with the demon! The one the elves had landed on...the phantom-caller. Was he still with Majere? Or could I perhaps enlist his aid?

I strolled casually down the bar and intercepted him as he reached the counter. "Pardon me, but have we met before?" I asked, smiling but not coming on too strong just yet. With the shy ones, you had to be careful. "I could have sworn I know your face from somewhere."

"What? Oh, no, sorry, I don't think so...wait, yes. Yes, you do look familiar." It wasn't coming to him. I could tell. He was trying, but he was drawing a big gaping blank. The poor boy needed assistance.

So I gave it to him. "I have it!" I exclaimed, snapping my fingers and pointing at him while rolling my eyes mentally at my obscene informality. Seen in others, my behavior would have made me shudder. But for different kinds of people one needed different methods of movement. "The Support Group!"

And on went the mental candle. His face even lit up. "You're right! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you earlier. Nice to see you again. Um, did Raistlin..." he lowered his voice. "How did you get here? If you don't mind my asking."

"Not at all. And no, I haven't seen Raistlin in ages. How is he? Did you keep in touch? Such a clever man, Raistlin Majere."

"Yes." He didn't sound too enthused about the topic, and that was all I needed to know. Perfect. Onto the next stage.

"So he dragged you here too, did he?" I was making a wild guess but had an alibi ready should it fail.

"He brought you here? But why...where? Everyone else was all together!" Nervously he cast a glance down the bar; summoning the standoffish proprietor, I bought my new companion a drink. He stared at it nervously, like it was going to rise from his glass and hurl itself onto his face, suffocating him. Which wouldn't be a half-bad method of dealing with Raistlin if it weren't too showy as magic went...having the tea that usually saved him destroy him instead. No, that was pathetic. Childish, even. And I was anything but a child.

"Really? Who did he bring?" I didn't have to feign my interest.

"Ken, Lucemon, and some new people. And Feanor and Maedhros are here too, though Raistlin didn't bring them. But something awful has happened to Maedhros." Face white as chalk, he sipped his drink and put it down hastily, like it had bit him. Not a drinker, eh? Drinking to be polite, eh? So much for that method of information extraction. Onto the next. Drawing my blue jewel out from under my robes, I began to play with it almost absentmindedly, letting his eyes be drawn to it, to the reflections and the luster dazzling him. Distracting him...opening him up...focusing him solely on me...

"Something awful? Are you so sure? Maybe it just seemed that way."

"He tried to kill Feanor, and he just tried to kill me. He's working for...for Kaizer..." His eyebrows contracted: he was getting a headache. Excellent.

"Kaizer? What a strange name. Who is this Kaizer?" I couldn't hide my smile any longer. The boy looked ready to drop yet totally unaware anything was the matter with him. _You see, Majere? I have plenty of tricks myself. And for the first act of my revenge drama, I'm stealing your compatriot._

"But you know who Kaizer is. He calls himself King. Maybe that is how you remember him."

Oh, blast it all. Why did _he_ have to go butting in? "Nataku, I'm busy talking to this gentleman," I replied pleasantly to my pale-haired would-be ally. "It's very rude to interrupt. Surely the nice lady from the Dragons of Heaven told you that as well. Why don't you go talk to Rei some more?"

"Rei said Mr. Ikari wanted to see her. What are you doing?" He began to watch the jewel too, but judging by the broken expression on my first victim's face it was futile to try and fix the situation now. "And Kaizer will be mad at us if we get back late. Are we going to leave soon?"

So he couldn't talk with the young lady anymore and now wanted out? Selfish brat. "Just as soon as I'm done here," I told him.

"We're done now."

The finality in the phantom-caller's voice startled me, the coldness in his eyes effused actual chills. "I'm tired of people tricking me. I'm tired of being used. Why can't anyone ever do their own dirty work instead of soiling someone else's hands?" There was a tragic story behind that statement, I was sure, but didn't really care. "You work for Kaizer, don't you?"

"Whatever gave you that--"

"Yes we do. I am called Nataku and he is Roger, but Kaizer calls us Pawn and Bishop. What is your name?"

"Nataku, if you ever want me or anyone else to take you to see Rei again, stop talking," I growled. I was going to throttle him when we got back if no one stopped me. No, I was going to test any revenge ideas I happened upon on him first. No, I was going to--

"It is very nice of you to offer to take me, but I can get here on my own now that I know where it is."

"I thought you liked following orders. Here's one for you. Be. Quiet."

But the damage had been done. The phantom-caller seemed to grow, or maybe the room shrank, and the lights in the already dim room faded even more. "I'm not weak. I'm not someone you can just push around. I'm not...I'm not scared..."

"Your voice is cracking. Am I wrong in thinking that means someone is scared, then?" I hated children. I hated children and grown men who thought like children. I hated children and grown men who thought like children, especially if they went by the alias Pawn for apparently no good reason, as they refused to follow orders.

"Nataku, I think we've made the man angry. Let's go." Grabbing him by the arm, I shoved my way to the door and out into the street. Inside I fumed at having to run from someone I could no doubt defeat, but Kaizer frowned on unauthorized violence...especially when his precious slaves were in the area. I understood and even agreed, but still. This was one more mark against me. One more person who'd have to pay. But once Raistlin was out of the way, his flock would fall easily. The phantom-caller and I would have another chance to test each other.

On a whim I sent Nataku back ahead of me, then retraced my steps and peeked back into the bar. The man was sitting down now, drink still untouched and head bowed. His shoulders heaved like he was crying. I scowled. Pathetic. And I couldn't take him out because of the crowd.

Someone touched my shoulder; despite myself I jumped. It was Rei. "If you're coming back in, do so," she said lightly, emotionlessly. "Otherwise, go home. And where is Nataku?"

"Writing you love poetry," I growled as I turned to walk away, my day now thoroughly ruined. First the cleric, then Nataku, then that man, and now this. I wasn't satisfied with just destroying Raistlin now. This whole world would have to recognize me. Because the way it had treated me thus far was just ludicrous.

And to top it all off, as I shot her one final glare I could have sworn she was blushing.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

a/n: So what's wrong with Lyon? What are Raistlin and his gang up to? I'M NOT TELLING NEXT TIME! HA! But you can drop by my homepage (now my LiveJournal, which is so cooler than the Xanga) to read up on Roger...and stay posted for Nataku next week! Yay! Nataku...and the return of two characters HWB, at least, will be very glad to see. Whistling and vino, next time on "Judecca!"


	14. Canto XIV: Nataku

Hiya! Sorry about the break there (and, those of you who got P.M.s, the awkward wording. I was in a weeeeiiirrrrd mood...). "Judecca" is now going to be biweekly, on Tuesdays (or, when I'm procrastinating, late Monday evening...sigh), due to my afternoons every other week being untimely interrupted by a double session of Evil class so we can watch movies. But here's the new canto. I hope everyone likes it...

**Judecca, Canto XIV: Nataku**

I seem to always be stealing swords. (The best word for a trend such as this, I believe, is "habit." Alec told me, but he also said two instances did not make a "habit." How many do, then?) And the strangest thing about this habit is that I never intend to use the sword myself. I have my cloth for fighting, and really would not know what to do with something like a sword. But that does not really matter,so here is what happened.

That evening after Roger and I got back from the bar and Crysania, Maedhros, and Naesala got back from wherever they had been, none of them were very happy and yelled at me when I asked what was wrong. Maedhros was the only one who did not yell. But Maedhros only speaks when Kaizer tells him to because of the Dark Ring on his right wrist. Kaizer yelled too, when I reported that "morale was low." (I learned that phrase from a book Alec let me borrow about armies, when I asked what an army was. He actually let me keep the book, because it was not a "manga" and he only really likes reading "manga," whatever those are.) So I grew tired of being yelled at, which means that I got a strange tight feeling in my chest, and to loosen this tightness I stepped outside to get fresh air and think a little about my situation. I could understand why Roger might be upset, as that man in the bar had gotten mad at him, and that maybe Crysania, Maedhros, and Naesala had had a bad time out doing whatever they'd been doing, but Kaizer had stayed in the CS Building all day, so I really did not know why he would be so angry. I hoped he was not mad at me for not helping Roger more at the bar; I was supposed to help with the Dark Rings, but Roger seemed to be doing a very good job on his own and Rei was such a nice girl, so I decided to talk to her instead.

It was funny—not in the way that makes you laugh, but in the way that makes you scratch your head and get chills. I had just met her a few hours ago, and since then she had been in my head and would not leave. I kept seeing her pretty red eyes in my mind, and the gentle smile she had given me, and the way she had listened so well to my stories about being a Dragon of Earth. I kept wondering what she had really meant about being an "Eva pilot," and why she wanted to be such a thing, if she had someone like Kamui or Kaizer she was fighting for. I wanted to see her again. Even thinking about it made me happy. She would smile for me again, and her eyes would light up. The nice lady from the Dragons of Heaven had red eyes too, as did Kamui (though both of them had brown in their eyes too). Red-eyed people were always so nice, and since Rei's eyes were the reddest, it made sense that she would also be the nicest. Those eyes and that smile were like a gift, I thought. A very special gift like my choker. And she had given it to me, and now I was keeping it with me just like the choker.

Which is how I got the idea to get Kaizer the sword. Well, not exactly. I decided that, to make Kaizer feel better (and maybe make him like me a little more so I might get my soul back sooner), I would get him a present. But I did not know what he might like, so I asked Alec, who was working on his Project in the sub-sub-basement. I helped design the Project, but had no idea it would take so long to make.

"What's up?" Alec asked, coming out from a bundle of wires, grease on his face and his long hair tied up in a funny bun to keep it out of the way. "Something wrong?"

"The rest of the building is above us," I told him. "That is why this room is called the sub-sub-basement. The treasure room is right above us, then the reception area, then..."

"Nataku, that's not what I meant by 'what's up'...ah, forget it. Did Kaizer send you to help? 'Cuz I can't get this damn program to work the way it's supposed to...I mean, there's going to be biological interaction at some point and there's no way I can see to compensate for that...but it worked before, right? I mean, it really worked? You saw it, right?"

"Every day," I told him. "But Kaizer did not send me today. I came by myself to ask if you know what Kaizer might like for a present."

"Besides Majere's head on a platter?..." Alec scratched his head and frowned. "Well, there's always his collection. You could pick something off the list of the things he wants for that. The elf's still got one, and then there's an innkeeper with a sword he's got his eyes on, but is scared to death of."

"I thought the lion yesterday evening was scary but he beat that and took the little statues from it."

Alec waved his hand in the air dismissively. "That was on his level. This sword...Nat, the sword bites."

"That is a very rude word, Alec." Kaizer used it from time to time.

"I mean it literally." He grinned. "Apparently it's got this face on it...and if anyone other than the owner tries to touch it...chomp!" Seeing me stiffen, he clapped me hard on the back and I nearly fell over. "But you're the great Nataku of the Dragons of Earth! You do this stuff all the time! I'm sure you'll be fine! Go get 'em!"

"Thank you," I told him, stepping away so he would not slam his hand into my back again. "I will try, then. But do not tell Kaizer. I want it to be a surprise."

He smiled again. "You know something? You are a really nice guy. What a pity you always end up hanging out with...ah, never mind. I'm babbling. Go get your sword. But don't kill anybody this time, all right?"

I had gotten my ribbon out, so I snapped it in his direction to help make my point. "I will try not to. But it is not smart to get in my way."

"I know." Now he sounded a little sad. "Just...go, okay? Before I start regretting..."

I do not understand that word. "Regret." Apparently it means "to realize you have done something wrong," but there is more to the emotion. A sort of sadness. I have been told things I have done were wrong, but I have never felt sad about it. It seems useless to be sad about something you cannot change. I felt bad I had made Alec somehow sad, but since he told me to go I did not stay to ask what it was I had done or said that made him feel that way. Instead I left to get the sword, taking with me a Dark Ring to use on the sword. Maybe then, I figured, it would not bite me.

This plan worked very, very well. But the sword was faster than I'd thought. And the inn was far from abandoned.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Is this the place to get medicine?" I asked the man with the helmet on outside the Black Sheep Apothecary; he looked over at the man just leaving through the sliding doors.

This second man pulled a key out of one of his pockets and inserted it in the door. "It certainly is, but I'm afraid we're closed for the evening. If you would be so kind as to...ah." He did not finish his sentence after I held up my bleeding hand. His eyes drifted from my blood to the sword, wrapped in my ribbon, which I held in my other hand. "And how did you come by that?"

"A sword bit me," I told him. "Another man with orange armor tried to attack me too but I defeated him. But Alec will not be mad at me because I did not kill anyone this time." I did not know if this man would know Alec or not, but as Alec seemed to know about everyone I figured it would be a safe guess.

The man's eyes narrowed; unlike Rei, his eyes were a greenish gold. My eyes are gold. Apparently this is rare. "So you ran into trouble at the Ptolomea? It's usually a safe place...Come, let's go somewhere else and we can talk about this."

"Riff warned me about this," the helmeted man said. "Earl Hargreaves, are you taking a case?"

"So he did, did he?" The man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and bound my bleeding hand with it. "For the time being...this will have to do, sir."

"I do not actually have a gender," I told the nice man with the gold eyes. Behind him the helmeted man made a strange noise. People tend to do that when I correct them about this issue. I do not know why. "My name is Nataku."

"Ah...well...Earl Cain Hargreaves at your service, Nataku," the nice man said, bowing. No one had ever bowed to me before. The world was really full of such wonderful people. I did not understand why Kamui wanted to destroy it. "Where would you like to talk?"

"Actually, just having the handkerchief helps me," I told him, not sure what he wanted to talk about and not liking the looks his friend with the helmet was giving me. "But I would like to go to the Human Instrumentality Project. It is a bar." Rei was still smiling in my head. I wanted to see the real smile and I knew exactly what we would talk about: this time we would talk about her. _Why do you pilot an Eva_? I would ask. Somehow that sounded like a very good question to me. It sounded like the talk about wishes Kamui liked so much.

"Yes, I know the place..." Cain beckoned to the man with the helmet. "We'll escort you and talk while we walk. Come on, Kain."

"I thought your name was Cain. How can he be Cain too?" I asked, confused. "Is it like how there were two Kamuis?"

"He spells it differently," shrugged Cain. "These things happen...and there was an earlier Cain as well..." He shook his head. "Let's not talk names. You have quite an interesting package there." He gestured with his cane at the sword.

"It is for Kaizer," I told him as we started walking. As I said that, the other Kain stopped in mid-step and began heading in the other direction. I let him go, and so did Cain. I had not liked him anyway. "Because he was mad all day."

"I'll bet he was..." mused Cain. This startled me.

"You know Kaizer?"

"I know some of his acquaintances. I know what he's planning on doing, and I know what he's collecting in his little basement." He adjusted his coat. "We've...clashed about certain items we both wanted."

"You collect things?"

"You could say that." Now Cain would not look me in the eyes. "What do you think he's doing in there, behind those doors and among that fire?"

"I do not know. It is not my place."

For some reason he found this funny. "Yes, he would like that. It's not my place to say this either, but you need to know. Stay away from him."

Suddenly I remembered someone else I knew with golden eyes. "Do you know Raistlin?" I asked. "He is sometimes called Majere. That is his last name. He is Kaizer's enemy."

"I know him. I know all about what he's playing here, and what's going to happen. I've been in the chapel, I've spoken with Her, and of my own volition I've chosen to be here. But you...you never had a choice, did you?" Now he was looking at me again, and I wished he would look away again. He was kind of scary. "I am not a stranger to dangerous hobbies, but what Kaizer aspires to is beyond even my limits. Why do you think the sword bit you?"

"I picked it up. It had a face. The face had a mouth. It was unhappy." I almost unwrapped it to show him but caught myself. Showing you have a weapon in the middle of a street is not smart. But it was such a strange face, I wanted to show him. The eyes were so droopy and so was the mouth. It looked silly...until it sank its jaws into me.

"Statues have mouths and faces, but they don't bite. Souls, Nataku. Only things with souls move like that. I seek, in the substances I gather, to control life and death with chemicals. Death trapped in liquid and powders: in these I deal, with these I study alone. What Kaizer seeks to control is not nearly as empirical. Every artifact he desires contains a demon within. A bit dangerous should that treasure chest break, is it not?" He chuckled. "And they call me mad. No, if you want to avoid hell, and having gone through it I wouldn't recommend the experience, you'll get out before he destroys you."

"But he has my soul too," I protested. "And he will give it back. I believe him." Something was wrong with what Cain was saying. Then I figured it out. "And if you dislike Kaizer, why do you not fight?"

Absentmindedly Cain tucked his cane under his arm. "Maybe I just don't care enough. It's none of my business, anyway. Just thought you needed a warning. Here we are." And here we were: the bar where Rei worked. "What's here, anyway?"

"Rei," I told him happily, running towards the door. I looked back as I went in. Cain was smiling at me, like I'd done something funny.

I wonder why.

O0o0o0o0o0

Most of the people with Dark Rings were still there, ordering drinks on autopilot. That was very nice of Kaizer. Now Rei's boss would be making lots of money. And Rei was making quite a bit with tips herself.

"Why I what?" she asked me, sitting down across from me at the small circular table in the dim room. "Pilot?"

"Whatever that means, yes," I told her, staring at her as she adjusted her weight in the seat. The low lighting glowed in her hair, making it look like the sky tinged with sunlight. Her slim hands rested under her chin. Her skin seemed very smooth. I wanted to touch it and did not know why, so I did not. But I looked for a long time at her hands and thought quite a bit about taking one in my own, sword bite and all.

She blinked slowly, thoughtfully; I watched her eyelashes move up and down in fascination. Everyone else blinks the same way, so why Rei's blinking seemed so much more special I really cannot say. "For him," she finally said. "For Commander Ikari. And because I am supposed to. Is that all you wanted to know?"

Where was her smile? I wanted her smile. "I want to know anything you want to tell me," I said. "Anything about you. I do not care what. You listened to me and now I want to listen to you."

"There's nothing," she said flatly, softly. "There's nothing about me to tell. I just am."

For a minute I thought about this. "I do not believe that," I answered finally. "No one with a soul just is. That is how I came to know I had a soul. So unless you have no soul, there is more to you than just being. And a person with a smile like yours must have a soul."

"Maybe I don't, then," she said, ignoring my last sentence and the hint I had tried to drop with what Alec calls "subtlety", which is apparently something Roger is good at and I am not. "I've never really noticed."

"So perhaps Kaizer has your soul too," I offered. "We could ask him."

She shook her head. "Commander Ikari doesn't like Kaizer."

No one I'd met all day liked Kaizer. It was getting hard to defend him over and over again, but I had to for my soul's sake. "What about what you think?"

"I don't. Are you done?"

She was mad at me! What had I done? Everyone had been mad at me all day but Cain, just like no one had liked Kaizer. As I tried to discover what I'd done wrong, I realized I was sad about something in the past. That meant I was feeling regret. My first regret. And I did not like it at all. It hurt, like the part of me that felt stifled around angry people wanted to rip itself out of my chest and shred my heart to pieces. "I am sorry I made you angry, Rei," I told her. "I did not mean to. I will go, then." Head bowed, I went to leave, still unsure what I'd done but knowing I wouldn't get a smile this visit.

As I walked to the door, I became aware how quiet the bar was, as my heart was pounding in my ears. Slowly I became aware of something else though: a slow, sad tune drifting through the air. Someone was whistling. And from the sadness in the music, it was like he was whistling just for me.

Looking up, I saw Kamui. Or at least, at first glance it looked like Kamui. He had the same long face, the same sadness in his eyes. But his hair was longer, and the wrong color: green when it should have been black. His eyes had more red in them, too. And he was sitting with another red-eyed man, too. More red eyes. It hurt to look at them. But these eyes—at least the whistler's eyes—seemed kind. I decided I would take a chance and sat down at the table too.

"Hello. My name is Nataku." I smiled at the shorter of the two men, whose gaze stayed locked on the liquid in his glass; he sloshed it against the sides by shaking it and watched it settle. "What is your name?"

"Folken, make him leave..." the man muttered, still watching what little light came from the lamps reflect off his drink; his eyelids twitched but his pupils remained dilated. "I hate people who start conversations with me."

"Oh. Why?" To be polite, I started watching his drink too. It didn't seem all that interesting to me. "Starting a conversation means that I am interested in becoming your friend. You know nothing about me. We might get along very well."

"Hnf. What does that matter to me?" The man picked up a dinner knife lying at his place, began running his finger over the blade. He smiled, but it was not a normal smile. I could see all his teeth.

"Dilandau, you're being rude," said the whistler emotionlessly, but he sounded amused by something anyway. "Please forgive him, Nataku. I am Folken."

"What kinds of things do you like to do for fun?" At the very least I could be friends with Folken.

Dilandau continued caressing the knife, lifted his glass to his lips and wet them with the red liquid. He did not wipe his lips afterwards, so two little red drops of wine dribbled down his chin. "Do you really want to know?" he asked absently. "If you keep bothering me, I might have to show you..." He giggled to himself. "Yes, maybe I'll show you...get you to go away myself...it's been a while..."

"No, Dilandau." Folken's hand closed around his and took the knife away. "This is not the time for that."

"It's never time!" the younger man whined. "Folken, my Guymelef is gone and we're lost! I'm getting pretty angry! You aren't in charge of me!" Folken chuckled softly at that. "So stop ordering me around!" Standing, he drew his sword and pointed it at me. "I'll show you what happens to people who make me angry..."

"I have a sword too," I told him, to be fair. "If you attack me I will fight back too. And if we fight here Rei's boss will have to repair things, probably. I do not want to cause trouble for him."

"I—don't—care!" He lunged, but Folken grabbed him under the shoulders and pinned Dilandau against himself. "Dilandau!" Folken rebuked sharply. "What will it take for you to learn?"

"Don't lecture me, Strategos!" Scowling, he twisted his head up to look at Folken's face. "You think I care?"

"Have you forgotten them, Dilandau?" Folken breathed softly. "Those who died for your rashness?" Dilandau's eyes lost their focus at that. "That's...not fair, Strategos..." he began.

"Cause and effect, Dilandau. We must learn from our errors, and we must pay for them." Letting him go, Folken settled Dilandau back into a chair and sat back down as well. "I apologize, Nataku."

"It is all right. People have been getting mad at me all day. First there was Roger, then Crysania, Maedhros, and Naesala, and then Kaizer, even though he hasn't left the CS Building. And then--"

"Wait a moment, Nataku." Folken leaned closer. "The CS Building?"

"Yes. That is where I live. That is where Kaizer works. I serve Kaizer. Do you want to serve Kaizer too?" I asked, hoping I was not about to be lectured about how Kaizer was a bad man again.

Fortunately, Folken did not say anything bad about Kaizer. Instead, he said exactly what I'd hoped he would. This would be such a wonderful present, even better than the sword.

"I would like at least to speak to him. Will you take us there?" Standing, he tapped his companion on the shoulder. "We're leaving, Dilandau."

Dilandau's hand closed around the stem of his glass, squeezed. "Folken...you do nothing but tell me what to do...and yet we do nothing...I hate you!" he suddenly screamed, and the stem of the glass snapped, sending red liquid everywhere. Picking up the bottle, he threw it at Folken's head. Folken ducked sideways a little, face not even reacting, and the bottle broke against the wall. "I hate you..."

"Hey!" Even with Dark Rings, the people in the inn still did not like having bottles flying through the air. Or maybe Kaizer made them unhappy; there was no way to tell. "Watch it, kid!"

"Watch who you call a kid, peasants..." Panting, Dilandau drew his sword again, but his eyes were on the lamps hanging from the ceiling. Half of the lamps had lightbulbs, but the others all had several candles lighting them. A candle lamp hung above Dilandau's head, and upon seeing it his face brightened like he was re-meeting an old friend. "Yes..." He licked his lips. "Yes, all of you will...Folken will..."

"Dilandau, no!" Folken ordered, but his realization came too late. Swinging wildly above his head, Dilandau broke the ropes suspending the lamp; as he jumped back it crashed to the ground and lit the tablecloth on fire. "YES!" Dilandau cheered, running at Folken, who had nowhere to go since the fire started. "FOOOLLLLLLLKEEEEEEENNNNN, BUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRNNNNN!"

"That's enough." A figure stepped around the fire calmly, ignoring the heat and the smoke and the spreading flames and the Ringed patrons who could only stare as bit by bit the bar caught fire. Rei grabbed Dilandau by the sword arm and impassively wrenched the weapon from him, flames reflecting in her eyes but no emotion lighting them from within. "Leave before Commander Ikari gets back." Taking the sword, she swung it against a glass container near the bar, removed the object kept within, and began spraying the fire with a strange white substance in a canister.

Dilandau picked his sword up, shaking, and for a moment I thought he was going to attack Rei (which was terrifying, even more than when the fire had burst out) but Folken grabbed him again and steered him (struggling and kicking) towards the door. "To the CS Building, then?" he asked me, shooting me a glance out of the corner of his eyes.

I looked quickly at Rei, who upon seeing me looking at her flushed a little. "I am sorry," I told her. "About the fire. It will be hard to explain to your boss."

"I will manage," she told me. "But—thank you for worrying. I know it was not your fault. Goodbye." And at long last, she smiled at me—radiant against the clearing smoke, the one warmth in a dark uncertain chaos. I remembered a term Alec had showed me, another name for the Dragons of Earth that he said sounded very positive.

"You are an angel," I told her, bowing, then followed Folken and Dilandau out into the dark streets, but I did not notice the cold or even the pain from my sword bite. I had gotten what I had come from.

It had turned out to be a wonderful day after all.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

a/n: Lots of cheap shots there...Cain is a little off, I think...but I can't see him doing nothing in that situation either. That whole scene wasn't in my original notes. Aren't you lucky? You got explanations earlier than expected!

"X" fans...what's Alec building? (not that hard to figure out, sigh)

Eva fans...was it even close to passable? Waaaah...

Subtitle fans...when Rei says "goodbye," she's really saying "sayonara." This is what she says before every mission in the show until she's told to stop, and it carries with it a definite tone of finality. I've seen it translated as "goodbye forever." But she may not see it that way...

Judecca fans: Coming up next—oh, dear lord (just looked at my outline). _Feanor_ narrates next time, as he and some of the others launch an infiltration attack on behalf of the prisoner they saved back in Canto XII...and then a boy who's been reunited with his favorite toy shows up, ve-ry hap-py...far too many pyromaniacs in one place, right here in two weeks on "Judecca"! (I'm starting to sound like a TV show preview, aren't I?)

HWB—am I forgiven?


	15. Canto XV: Feanor

Ah, Curufinwe the hypocrite. Anything he says or thinks that goes against his actions in the Silmarillion is on purpose. He doesn't realize what he's doing. Warning: though I wrote this with my copy of the Silmarillion by my side and "Nightfall in Middle-earth" playing on iTunes, I make no guarantees about staying in Tolkienese or a semblance thereof. I will try. That is all I can promise, especially this late at night.

And one more thing: Anything about Folken's appearance that goes contra his appearance in the show is also purposeful. He pulled a Darth Vader after his death and reverted to his younger form, remember? So he has two biological arms, no tattoos, longer bangs, and white wings.

**Judecca, Canto XV: Feanor**

The human child's name was Koichi Kimura, and he would prove to be either my greatest tool or largest weakness. At present I could not ascertain which, though my opinion had begun of late to incline towards the latter.

"Okay, we're close. Should we spread out or clump together?" the boy Ken hissed through the shadows as our sorry vagabond band pressed closer to the enemy's obelisk stronghold. He had insisted on following the group of volunteers for this suicidal mission, much to the dismay of his comrades. In fact, I would have been perfectly content to enact the movement alone. Anything but dealing with these insufferable bumblers. I distrusted their magicks, their motives, and most of all their capabilities.

"Clump together, obviously. Better yet, get in a single file line. We'll need that formation to press through the door." Brave words from a shaking black-haired boy. Children, I was leading children to battle. The son of the High King had been reduced to _this_? Degrading. I could practically hear Nolofinwe's laughter.

Nay, I was not even leading. I was being led. The instigator of our attack team bit his lip and set his face in a mask of bravado, unorthodox in his bright dress compared to the more somber tones of our attire. At least they weren't cowards; all those had been left in the snug safety of their guarded house. These marched forward into the unknown, yet they marched blindly, with no thoughts save reclamation of the stolen objects in their minds. They did not understand the true opportunities presented by such an operation. Could I let their ignorance hinder me? Was I here for their purposes or my own?

The matter merited not a whit of debate; it deserved none. These children could not hold me back. I had not allowed even the gods to do so! The only individual ever to best me in matters of my own will awaited me in his blockaded house with the remainder of the cravens. He would be dealt with in time. But first, I had property to recapture. Both the human's and my own.

Silently I slipped my hand in my pocket as the children squabbled about the best way to deal with guards at the gate. By the time they noticed my disappearance, the guards would hopefully have ceased to be of import. My fingers met with the object they sought; I slid it on and slunk forward, drawing my sword. Let them talk at the enemy's very gates all they wished if they could act no better. Fortunately for them, others among them knew how to accomplish things.

The door was, to my great disturbance, unguarded. For a moment I thought perhaps the sentinels were lying in wait and surveyed the area, but there truly were none to be found. What a simpleton this Kaizer was! Had he no fear of invasion? My very blood heated within me at the thought of being tricked by such a careless opponent. He would pay for such an oversight.

The statues he had stolen from the child should be ensconced, as far as anyone in the unfortunate confederacy who considered me their fellow could reason, in a treasure room below the main level of the building. I was well-acquainted with the area and made for it immediately, with all the grace and silence of the Elder Children. No clumsy skulking mortal, I. My dealings with the race _post mortem_ had left me far less than impressed. I would leave them to create a disturbance upstairs as I sought the true objective. No doubt they in their ineptitude would conjure one for me somehow.

True to my thoughts, I had no sooner turned down a hallway than my sensitive ears burned from an explosion, set off in the direction whence I had come. Anticipating guards, as I had, they had voted to forgo subtlety. Did my absence thus go unnoticed? I would likely fare better, were that the case. But I could not worry about baggage I had left behind. What lagged behind my footfalls was always soon forgotten. Those who could not keep up with me deserved such treatment for their weakness.

_So why then_, prickled a feeling in my gut as I descended the stairs, sword held before me should a member of the opposite number come stumbling up, _have you come? You care not for the boy's plight, nor for his stolen treasures. Yours alone are bane enough. Why chase after what you have left behind?_

Self-doubt was in my bosom an uncommon and unwelcome visitor, so I banished it with nary a further thought. I sought my objective for the same reason I still sought, in some desperate corner of my desires, those Jewels which had been wrested from me: they had been taken against my will. The ignominy of that defeat rankled my senses and had to be corrected. Never in my long life had I sought anything other than what was rightfully mine; to be deprived of any of it stung bitterly. Had others but heeded my philosophy and acknowledged my rights, they would have avoided much grief, but I did not regret their fates.

Yet this was not the place for reflection, safe as I might have been courtesy of the artifact around my finger. I rubbed it with the thumb of the same hand thoughtfully, marveling as I always did at its smoothness beneath my skin. Not for the first time my artisan's mind wondered who had crafted such a precious thing, and to what end. For surely it had not been the creature the prince whose body Nelyo and I had found had defeated. No base spawn of such vileness could bring forth such beauty. The very nature of the thought screamed anathema to the workings of the universe.

The doors of the treasure room approached in my vision as I strode down the long hallway, the stairs now far behind. All too well I remembered the sound of my boots striking the floor, the smirk on the twisted child's face as he humbled me by taking what was mine by every verdict in Ea. I cared little for verdicts and rules, normally. Yet this one felt just and right in my mind, but this boy violated it. Apparently he did not know the price opposing me carried.

Resting my hands on the handles of the doors, feeling them cold and unblemished in my palms, I braced myself for the Valarauko within. Those scum of Morgoth would not be able to see me, I knew—not as long as the precious artifact was mine—but that did not guarantee absolute victory. No, the only thing that could achieve that was my gallantry. So I would not let them cow me.

Pushing the doors open with a mighty shove, I sprinted in and towards the chest on the opposite wall—only to cross swords almost immediately with a tall man in a cloak, who stepped forward to intercept the sound of my footsteps. Of the demons no sign could be seen. I recognized my assailant: the man who had opposed me at the library. His ridiculous aquamarine hair betrayed his identity almost immediately.

"I apologize," he told me in his deep voice, "but invisibility is useless."

So he wanted to provoke me into speaking? Oh, I'd give him a speech as his lifeblood stained the floorboards, but not before. Dodging to the side, I tried to run past him. Let him wonder in puzzlement as to from where I would attack! Yet he matched my motion, reached out to grab me with his other hand. I pulled away and dashed for the treasure, not fearing his sword. How could he stab in the back what he could not see?

Yet I heard him pursuing me, trying to trap me against the wall. Playing clever? That I could do as well. Pivoting, I thrust out behind me, fully expecting him to impale himself on my unseen blade. Instead he jumped, something brilliant and white erupting from his back as he soared over my head and landed squarely between me and my goal. Turning, I could see what had happened to him; wings had grown from his shoulderblades and filled the air with floating white feathers with each beat of their massive span. What sort of creature _was_ this man? One of Morgoth's dark twisted creations, no doubt. I had to dispose of him quickly, before his comrades had time to arrive and assist him. He had been lucky so far. His instincts would not save him this time.

Rather than running at him as I had before, I instead launched myself bodily at my assailant, choking back a laugh as my unexpected weight dragged him to the ground. Yet as I readied my weapon his was already prepared; it bit into my arm and I grit my teeth in pain for a moment before banishing my discomfort to the back of my mind. One little cut mattered not.

"Stop," he ordered calmly, pushing me off his body as I drew back my hand for the killing blow; I cursed the lightness of my race as he stood. "Don't do this."

"Why shouldn't I?" I asked him haggardly, caring not that my voice would betray my position anymore; circling him, spots of my blood falling from my wound marked my location in scarlet. "You have wrenched from me all I have left to call my own. Why would I wish to leave it in the hands of monsters?"

His brows tightened, his wings wavered. Yet he made no move to stop me from reaching the cabinet containing the treasures. Opening it so that a mere crack of light forced its way into the dim interior, I peered inside with one eye while keeping the other on my watchful adversary. Quickly I spotted the quarry: two black leonine sculptures on hexagonal bases, shot through with gold and adorned with gems in places. The craftsmanship was nothing to boast of, the poses blocky and the jewels dim. I sniffed in scorn as I pocketed the statuettes. Well, the boy Koichi _was_ only a child. He knew not yet how to discern quality...Making a mental list of the contents of the rest of the cabinet, I shut the doors again.

"So you let me pilfer your master's collection?" I inquired lightly, hoping to relax my opponent, let him think I had put all thoughts of killing him from my mind. Reality would prove a far harsher mistress for him to embrace.

"He is not my master. Why have you come?"

"Do you not know?" I backed towards the door, sword eager in my hand. "Have you not seen?"

"I am here only to obtain information. You do not wish to destroy the chest?"

"I do not as a matter of principle engage in the wanton destruction of artifacts. But do you not know the one called Nelyafinwe?" Let him see my justice with his dying eyes. I stepped forward, flicking the wound on my arm so blood would fall behind me instead. Soon the flow would congeal and I would be unseen once more. Then I would strike.

"The red-haired man. One of his many names." I realized with some alarm that, while his eyes should have been fixed on the blood or darting the length of the room in search of me, they were locked firmly on my own. He could truly perceive me, then. Very well.

Slowly I removed the golden band from my finger, savored its feel in my hand before dropping it safely into my pocket once more. I wanted him to see the hatred in my eyes as I cut him down. "He is my son. And Kaizer stole him from me."

The man flinched, though soon his face smoothed over with placidity once more. "Then Kaizer deserves that blow."

Abomination. Did he fear death after his arrogance had been stripped from his freakish form? Coward! Would he not join me, if the truth so shocked him that he dropped his mask, if only for a minute? Traitor! Fire filled me, and I surrendered to the flames, for I knew they would deliver my vengeance. They would consume first this man, and then anyone else who dared defy me, until I reached Kaizer himself. He would beg for mercy before I finished with him, he would free Nelyafinwe and sob on his knees to be spared. But I would be stone, unmoving. And I would laugh as I cut off his head...I was already laughing, charging my first opponent, the first rung on the ladder that would lead me to fulfillment...his sword dropped, he had accepted his fate like a fool...

"Father!!"

The sword fell from my numb fingers; I was close enough to the winged man to touch him had I wished to. Blinking and shuddering, my foe forgotten in my shock, I turned to meet the clear grey eyes of one I thought I had lost.

"Nelyafinwe..."

I staggered to him, gasping for breath; my wound throbbed in new pain as the haze of battle lifted its gauze from the surface of my mind. With one arm, he supported me; in the other he held the limp form of the boy Koichi. "He was hurt badly in the fight upstairs," he told me, laying the boy on the ground; I could see the telltale red blossom spreading across the boy's chest. "And you...you have also suffered injury."

I shook my head. "It is nothing, unworthy of fretting. But you...you know me?"

He smiled; vaguely I saw a white silhouette slipping out of the room, shedding feathers in its wake, but paid it no heed. "Of course. You are my father. How could I help but remember you?" Clutching me close to him, I felt his body heave against mine as he choked back tears unseemly in a prince such as he. "Where have you been? I have been so worried, Father...worried you would die before..."

"I, meet my end at the tip of Kaizer's blade? Don't be ridiculous, Nelya--"

My eyes rolled upwards as my brain blasted starry with pain and my stomach doubled over as his dagger tore into my side, ripping across the exposed skin with vicious delight. "...worried you would die before I had a chance to smite you myself," he finished, eyes now cold with joy and fulfillment. "Kaizer will be most pleased." His sleeve slid back on his slender arm as I crumpled to the ground, and even through the red mist tearing my vision I saw the black bracelet gleam on his arm. "But do not think I do this because of the Ring I wear. This is the fate all your sons have wished on you, that the world has wished. Did not the Curse say our end would come by treachery of kin unto kin? This then is its ultimate conclusion. You betrayed us all by leading us to damnation, so I avenge the lives you threw away by turning traitor to you. I detested you always, Father. Now at last Ea will be free of your brilliant blight."

The darkness was blotting out his face, and I was shamefully glad of it. Some part of me told me to reach out to the unconscious boy beside me, to return his tokens in hope of some miracle, but I had given up on the miraculous long ago.

"Above my comrade already spells the doom of your new band of gullible followers. In fire they will crackle and die as the hopes of my uncle's people seared away on the shores so long ago, when you ordered the ships be made into a preemptive pyre. They are only children; it is a pity that they must suffer so. But you had no mercy on the children whose parents left to follow you, whose parents you slew on the shores of the Sea, on the wife who loved you too much to accompany you."

He dared bring that woman into this? But no, this new Nelyafinwe would dare anything to achieve his savage goals. Such a drive sounded similar...but my brain grew heavy, I could not comprehend who he now resembled...I smelled the hot tang of iron and gagged on the scent of my own blood. Closing my eyes, I tried to fight the agony eating away at my side and arm, groped in my pocket for the object within in hopes just touching it would bring a soothing comfort. But my fingers already grew heavy and sluggish, unwilling and unwieldy. Even this body revolted against me...

Exhaling, I let the roaring darkness claim me. The last thing I heard before the blackness invaded my ears was the sound of my eldest son, my heir and my hope, laughing aloud, blissful in his triumph at last.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

a/n: Yes, I AM sadistic enough to end it there...but so as to avoid being lynched, the next Canto will be Soren-centric and we will indeed find out what will happen to Feanor and what has happened to Maedhros. I think I promised Dilandau in this last Canto and he never showed, so he'll be certain to crash the party next time. Gotta keep HWB happy, after all.

I think you all only have to wait a week, too, as my fall break has screwed up the movie schedule...so see? It's not that bad.

p.s. As to how Folken could see Feanor...well, he was bored in the afterlife and decided to take up dowsing. Van picked it up pretty quickly, and Folken is more perceptive than Van...he'd probably be a natural.88;


End file.
